


Voyage of the Dead Men

by Xazien



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-05-31 17:03:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6478615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xazien/pseuds/Xazien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 9:37 Dragon and Isabela has left Kirkwall, taking the ship Castillon promised her and resuming her dream life of a pirate captain. After a long time before the mast rumours begin to reach her ears of an ancient trove of treasure, a repository of world-shaking research that could earn her and her crew a fortune. Unable to resist, Captain Isabela and the crew of The Wicked Grace set off on a perilous voyage to find this treasure trove: the long-lost laboratory of the ancient darkspawn Magister known only as The Architect.</p><p>Special Guest Starring Savrel, a character created by Tumblr user everplague</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shipwreck's Rest

Captain Isabela stood at the helm of her ship, The Wicked Grace, breathing the sea air in deeply. It was glorious. Truly glorious. She had never been more thankful for anything than this ship. It was freedom, it was a chance to chase that horizon forever. Her chance to call herself ‘captain’ and fly a black flag. And, best of all, she got to wear a hat. She’d chosen a red bicorn hat that sat, points facing forwards, on her head. She looked incredible. She was sure of it.

Isabela looked down to see her Quartermaster, Plecker, leaning on the stairs. He was tall, slim elf with pale, clammy skin and large, watery eyes that looked like they belonged on a fish. His clothes and limp, dirty hair were both white, as was the cheap bow that was slung over his back. He was lucky Isabela hadn’t been hiring based on appearances. After she’d taken control of the ship from its former captain, the slaver Castillon, she’d sacked all the old crew and hired a new set. Plecker had proven himself the perfect choice for Quartermaster, from his good relationship with the crew to his loyalty. Also, Isabela had no desire to undermine her own authority by sleeping with him. So, on reflection, maybe she should start hiring based on appearance.

“Shipwreck’s Rest is near, captain,” Plecker informed her in his faint Nevarran accent. “We’re aiming to make port right next to the meeting point. Don’t want to stay longer than we have to.”

Isabela smiled. Shipwreck’s Rest. The legendary pirate haven, the huge island port built from old ship’s parts that served as the piracy capital of Thedas. Everyone who’d ever sailed under a black flag came to Shipwreck’s Rest: sometimes for information, sometimes to sell their plundered cargo, and sometimes just for the cheap taverns and brothels. Either way, it was the place to be and Isabela had been looking forward to returning here as a captain once more for almost seven years. And now she was here. Unfortunately, as Plecker had said, they wouldn’t be able to stay long. Their contact had recommended they not linger: the information they would receive was extremely sensitive.

A strong smell of ale, blood and sweat hit the air as they sailed into Shipwreck’s Rest. Isabela sighed heavily. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever smelt. The smell of pirate culture. There was just the right tinge of vomit and blackpowder too. Perfect.

The Wicked Grace drifted smoothly into dock, just between two other vessels. One was a small, thin and streamlined ship that bore a plaque giving its name as ‘The Songbird’. The other ship was fairly identical to the standard design shared by The Wicked Grace, except Isabela’s ship was painted a bright red while this vessel was a deep blue. The plaque on its side gave it the name of ‘The Unknown Tomorrow’.

“Land ho!” Isabela cried triumphantly, leaping down from the helm and down onto the deck with a satisfying thud. “Men! It’s shore leave time!” Isabela grinned as the crew whooped and cheered. She then gestured at Plecker and a muscular, surly dwarf next to him to join her. The dwarf was Isabela’s private bodyguard, a former Carta enforcer named Grideon. He rarely spoke but Isabela didn’t care. He’d been hired to hit things and stop things from hitting Isabela, and he’d done a great job with both.

“We’re heading to the tavern to meet with the contact,” Isabela informed them. “I’m sure our need to leave won’t be that urgent. It’s just word of a job. Now come on.”

The three pirates stepped off the deck and onto the jetty, a rickety construction that creaked underfoot. Isabela took a look at The Unknown Tomorrow. It was a fine ship, and the few crewmembers on board that seemed to be making repairs looked capable. She’d couldn’t help but feel she recognised them, however. But nevermind. She then turned to look at The Songbird and got a good look at the captain. Now that was someone she definitely knew.

“Cenred!” Isabela said with glee as she leapt from the jetty and onto the rigging of The Songbird, hanging from the ropes as she looked at the familiar man before her. He was a short, skinny little man with slicked-back black hair under a tricorn hat. Upon seeing Isabela, Cenred stumbled back.

“What in the-” Cenred spluttered. “You? You? You’re back at sea? I thought you were dead, or dying, or at least really ill. What do you want with me?”

Isabela hopped down from the rigging and strutted up to Cenred, lifting up his chin with her finger so they locked eyes. She smiled gently down at him.

“You thought I was, or hoped I was? Oh Cenred,” Isabela said fondly. “Always were a nervous one. What’s with the new ship?” Isabela asked, gesturing to The Songbird. “Last I heard you were still captaining The Draconian Fury. Toughest ship on the waters, was it? What happened?”

“That ship may have been powerful,” Cenred muttered. “But it sailed slower than I can run and went as smoothly as a drunk bronto. So I swapped it. Now I’m captain of The Songbird, the fastest ship to ever sail!”

“Everyone says their ship is the fastest, Cenred,” Isabela said. “Have you ever raced it?”

“Well,” Cenred said. “No, but-”

“How powerful are its guns?”

“Well they could be better-”

“Armour?”

“Well plating reduces the speed so-”

“Well,” Isabela said, cutting Cenred off again. “Sounds like a fine vessel. Good luck with the whole captain thing, then.” She blew Cenred a kiss and took a running jump from the back of The Songbird and onto the floor of Shipwreck’s Rest, where Plecker and Grideon stood waiting.

“Old friend,” Isabela explained as they carried on. “So who is it we’re meeting?”

“A middleman named Savrel,” Plecker replied. “Apparently he represents some information broker with a tip-off that could make us a fortune. Every broker says the same and I don’t trust Savrel worth shit but it’s worth a try.”

Isabela nodded as they approached the tavern. Outside, laying against the wall in a relaxed and reclined slouch, was a small albino elf wrapped in a dirty brown blanket. He was even paler than Plecker, with white skin that was almost translucent and tiny, squinting little pink eyes. He was refusing to make eye contact but Isabela knew he was her man. She walked up to him and leant next to him, narrowing her eyes at him as he continued to glance around without looking at her, stroking his nose.

“You Savrel?” Isabela asked. “I’m Captain Isabela, of The Wicked Grace. I’m here about the tip-off.”

“Captain Isabela,” Savrel said smugly. “Never told me you were a great pirate AND a great beauty.” He snickered to himself, lazily tapping his chin as he stared at her body. “Lovely, lovely... you say you’re here for the info?”

“Yes,” Isabela said impatiently. “Not to have some creepy little nobody examine me.”

“I’m a nobody by choice my dear,” Savrel drawled. “If I cared you would have heard of me. Some call me The Wanderer. Some call me The Blaggard...”

“Some call him The Twat,” Plecker muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Savrel to hear.

“Oi,” Savrel said. “Swivin’ little... nevermind. A contact o’ mine’s got a job, one he thinks you’re perfect for. Me, I think you’re perfect for other things. Anyway, he hired me to keep his name out of any rumours. If you ask me, this is a big one.”

“What is it?” Isabela demanded. “And who’s your boss? How does he know me?”

“Boss will tell you the job,” Savrel sighed lazily. “Fella’s a swivin’ ol’ bugger. Name’s Percival Cain. Slippery swiver, would sell his own mum out for thirty silvers. You know him?”

“Cain?” Isabela said. “I know him. Bought some information off him before. He’s always been a good source. Where is he?”

“Tavern,” Savrel said. “Back room. Now, if we’re done here, I’ll be going. Unless a cheeky tip is in order? Wage I’m getting ain’t worth coming out in the sun for.”

“Nice try,” Isabela said, showing him her middle finger. “Now go. I’d rather not see you again.”

Savrel sighed and walked off, huddling himself in his blanket.

“Glad to see the back of him,” Plecker said as he opened the tavern door.

“I dunno,” Grideon grunted as he followed Plecker and Isabela in. “I found him kinda charmin’.”

***

The ‘back room’ of the tavern was poorly lit, with only a single candle at the desk providing a half-light that showed a dark figure lounging in the chair, boots on the desk and hat over his eyes. There was an air of mystery about the man, an air of control. He hadn’t said anything yet but it was like everything in that room hinged on his word and his alone. The whole room, the entire design, had been made to ensure this, in fact. Isabela had been through this routine before. Percival Cain was the master of any situation he was in. If all the world was a stage, then Cain was the greatest performer who’d ever lived.

“Captain Isabela,” Cain said softly from under the wide brim of his hat. “So nice of you to join us.” Cain looked up ever so slightly, his yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. “I trust you had a pleasant journey?”

“Nothing better than being at sea, Mr Cain,” Isabela said, leaning over the desk in a sultry manner with one leg in the air. She tentatively lifted up the brim of Cain’s hat with a single finger, smiling as she saw his face. He was an attractive man, with a well-trimmed blonde goatee, perfect cheekbones and those entrancing yellow eyes. It all helped with the performance, something Cain was keenly aware of.

“It’s _Captain_ Cain now,” Cain smiled seductively. “Captain of The Unknown Tomorrow, as of my most recent purchase.”

“You’re captain of The Unknown Tomorrow?” Isabela said. “I never had you for a pirate.”

“How little you know of me,” Cain grinned. “We should all aim high, Captain Isabela. Information broker one day, pirate captain the next. Where shall I be tomorrow, I wonder?”

“What I want to know is what _I’ll_ be doing tomorrow,” Isabela said, perching on the desk. “You said you had a job. Care to elaborate?”

Cain reached under his desk and pulled out a small piece of parchment with what appeared to be an intricately-drawn heart, with what appeared to be crab claws. Below it was written three words in perfect, flowing handwriting: ‘The Architect’s Seal’.

“My my...” Isabela crooned. “What is this?”

“It’s what I want you to get,” Cain explained simply. “The Architect’s Seal. You know of The Architect?”

“The sentient darkspawn emissary that started The Amaranthine Conflict?” Isabela asked. “He was killed by The Hero of Ferelden at the end of the conflict. What interest can you have in him?”

“I recently came into possession of a map,” Cain said, leaning forwards. “It appears that The Architect, whomever and whatever he was, was around for a great deal of time. Before he decided to plunge Amaranthine into a miniature Blight it is apparent that he spent a great many decades, likely a great many centuries, toiling away in a laboratory. I’m sure the experiments this creature conducted were foul beyond belief, but I cannot resist the allure of the kind of price centuries of scientific research could earn me. I found a map to this particular laboratory, but I discovered that it was locked and, after investigation, that only this can unlock it.” He tapped the drawing once, smiling up at Isabela with perfect white teeth.

“So what is it?” Isabela probed further. “Where is it? Why do you need me?”

“I have discovered that The Architect kept the seal upon his person,” Cain continued. “It served as the buckle of his belt, of all things. Upon slaying the creature Warden-Commander Mahariel looted the belt from The Architect’s body. The last I heard he passed it on to the Grey Wardens of the Free Marches. I want you to go retrieve it for me. Upon retrieving it we share the key, the map and, therefore, the treasure. An even split on the reward from selling the research.”

“One question you haven’t answered,” Isabela drawled. “Is why you need me. You have a ship now, _Captain_ Cain. Set sail. Find the seal, find the treasure, live like a king.”

“There are several reasons I do not set out to pursue the seal myself,” Cain explained. “Firstly it will be a long and perilous journey that I may not come back from. The Wardens of the Free Marches recently went on a mass Deep Roads expedition here,” Cain pushed forwards a piece of vellum with some co-ordinates written onto it. “And neither me nor my crew have any desire to face a horde of darkspawn. Secondly, rumour of this treasure trove will soon spread and if I pursue the seal while possessing the map I will have a target the size of a Qunari painted on my back. Sending a second party deflects the danger onto them.”

“How chivalrous,” Isabela replied. “But ok. I’ll take the job.” She picked up the drawing and co-ordinates. “I’ll be seeing you around, Captain Cain.”

“One last thing,” Cain said as Isabela turned away. “I want to make sure I can trust you. I don’t want you taking the seal and selling both it and the location of the map and, therefore, me. So I’ll be sending a representative. The Quartermaster of The Unknown Tomorrow. I believe you two are acquainted.”

Isabela turned in time to see a regrettably familiar face step out of the shadows from the back of the room. She said nothing but her hand went to her knife as she saw Castillon.

“Castillon and I have... history...” Isabela said tentatively. “Plus, my ship was once his. I’m not sure I like the idea of him being on board.”

“Nonsense,” Cain said plainly. “Castillon will accompany you on this voyage or you will not leave this room with those co-ordinates or that drawing, I assure you. Bring Castillon with you or don’t go at all. It’s your choice, my darling dear.”

Isabela pursed her lips, staring at the grinning Castillon. She’d rather kill that little slimeball than be within a mile of him, but the treasure Cain was offering was... irresistible.

“You have a deal, Captain Cain,” Isabela said reluctantly. “Castillon, welcome aboard.”


	2. Into The Grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabela and the crew of The Wicked Grace, Castillon reluctantly in tow, have headed from Shipwreck's Rest to an entrance in the Deep Roads to find the Warden-Commander of the Free Marches and acquire the key to an ancient trove of treasure. But there are dangers in the Deep Roads that few account for and finding the Grey Wardens may not be as simple as they believe

The Wicked Grace glided softly through the waters, gently coming to a stop at a small stretch of coastland by a cliff. Along the cliff were a few small coves and caves, most a mere few meters deep and housing nothing but sand and seaweed, but just on the far side of the coastline there was a small, dark cavern with a rusted iron blade laid outside. On that blade was a rusted heraldry bearing a griffon over a chalice. It was a sign. There was a Deep Roads entrance there. That was where they had to go.

Isabela had disembarked the ship, leaving Plecker in charge while Grideon followed by her side and Castillon skulked around behind the two. The small team was necessary: a large group would attract too much attention, result in casualties. This small team was the bare minimum: Isabela and Castillon, who had to be there, and Grideon to protect them. They would attract minimal attention from the darkspawn, who would hopefully be drawn to the Grey Wardens and be kept off their backs. The size also allowed them to move faster. Isabela estimated that they’d be able to link up with the Warden expedition in a matter of hours, providing there were no complications.

“There will, of course, be complications,” Castillon drawled as the group entered the cavern and made their way down into the depths of the world. “The Deep Roads are a treacherous place. Sometimes people just disappear down there, never to be seen again, and no-one knows what happens to them...”

Isabela had been putting up with veiled threats from Castillon for the whole journey, forced to turn a blind eye while the slaver seethed at her. She’d have left him on the ship, but before they’d left Shipwreck’s Rest Percival Cain had told her that he was never to leave her side. Cain was intent on preventing a betrayal. Isabela was now even more tempted than usual to stab him in the back and take all the loot. She was putting the work in, after all.

“Don’t act like you were wronged, Castillon,” Isabela said. “You were a slaver. I outplayed you and took your ship. Now, without your ship, your business has gone under. It seems fair enough to me.”

“You claim the moral high ground,” Castillon retorted. “But I was simply doing what I could to make my way in the world. That made it right. A philosophy you once shared. How much you’ve changed...” Castillon chuckled lightly. “You now have a new doctrine. What makes it better? Why is your moral code superior to mine?”

“Maker,” Isabela rolled her eyes. “If I’d known you’d go on to become a philosopher I’d have let you keep the bloody ship.”

The group carried on down the path, squinting in the light of a torch held by Grideon. There had been no darkspawn yet, not even a deepstalker or spider, but in the distance Isabela could hear the faint sounds of fighting. The clash of steel on steel, the grunts and hisses of a warrior pressing forward, the faint buzz or crackle of a spell being cast. Wardens, perhaps? Why would they be so close to the surface? Unless something had gone horribly wrong with the expedition. Isabela had never been much of a believer, but she made a silent prayer that Stroud was still alive.

“Press on,” Isabela whispered. “Quickly. They might be Wardens, and they might need our help.”

The group quickened their pace, drawing their weapons as they went. Isabela produced two curved kukri daggers, Castillon drew a thin longsword and Grideon pulled out an ugly, stubby mace that was covered in dried blood and brains. As they dashed down the tunnel they could see flashes of light coming from around a corner, as if spells were being cast. A darkspawn corpse flew across the tunnel from around the corner, a burnt husk with smoke rising from it.

“We almost have them!” a woman’s voice cried. “No relenting! No quarter!”

Isabela, Castillon and Grideon turned the corner to see two Wardens making short work of a large band of darkspawn. The first Warden, the woman who they’d heard, was a true vision of a warrior. She was resplendent in Warden armour, gripping a greatsword tightly by the hilt and tearing through the lesser darkspawn as if they were nothing. A shriek lunged at the woman before she could bring up her blade but she simply splayed out her hand and fired from it a bolt of lightning that killed the creature on the spot. Isabela gasped. She was mage and warrior both.

The second Warden was a blur. Isabela could barely make out a person, just a flicker of blue and silver that seemed to pass through the darkspawn and cut them to pieces. It was only once the last darkspawn had fallen that this darting sliver finally stopped and stood still. It was a man, a slim and lithe elf with a dagger in each hand, a row of throwing knives upon his belt and a steely look in his eye. His eyes made the smallest of movements, flickering up to meet Isabela’s in the half-light. Slowly, he sheathed his blades and his female companion did the same.

“Looters?” the male Warden asked. “Bandits? Thieves? Either way, you three are brave to venture down here. Or foolish.” He warily gestured to the female Warden, who took a confident step forward.

“Senior Warden Eleanor Hargreaves,” the woman introduced herself, taking Isabela’s hand and shaking it firmly. She then shook the hands of Grideon and Castillon, nodding respectfully each time. “Forgive my companion. He’s spent little time outside of the Wardens.”

“To protect this civilisation we must live outside it,” the elven Warden muttered. “Budwin,” he introduced himself. “Warden Budwin. What brings you here?”

“Isabela’s the name,” Isabela introduced herself, shooting a wink and a smile at the two of them. The seriousness of Grey Wardens always made her smile. “Captain Isabela, Captain of The Wicked Grace. These are Castillon and Grideon.”

“A pirate,” Budwin shook his head. “Begone. These halls are not for looting. We know your kind and want nothing to do with you.”

“Wait,” Eleanor said, looking at Isabela with curiosity. “Isabela? The same Isabela that travelled with the Champion of Kirkwall?”

Isabela grinned, giving Eleanor the once over. Tall, very muscular, hair tied in a severe bun, cheekbones you could cut yourself on. Not really her type, but better than the lithe Budwin. She liked his surliness, though. Reminded her of another elf she’d definitely enjoyed getting acquainted with. “The very same. And my companions and I have little interest in looting thaigs. We’re looking for Stroud.”

“As are we,” Eleanor sighed. “Budwin and I were separated from the main expedition after we stumbled across a breeding ground. The sheer number of darkspawn cut us off from the others and drove us up here. We eventually decided to stop and face them.” She gestured to the darkspawn corpses that littered the floor. “Evidently, we needn’t have retreated to begin with.”

“Take us to him, then,” Castillon commanded, much to Isabela’s chagrin. “We wish to speak with him, and would likely be stronger together.”

“Not sure why a band of murderers and thieves would want to find our Warden-Commander,” Budwin said suspiciously. “Hoping to join are you? Wanting to atone? No,” he said after examining the group more closely. “Not the type.”

“We’d be happy to have you fight by us on our way back to the Wardens,” Eleanor shot a look at Budwin and smiled warmly at the pirates. “The expedition has not gotten far and has been moving slowly. Please, do follow, and pray that Stroud still lives so you might speak with him.”

Eleanor turned to face the path before her and set off, the wary Budwin behind her shooting suspicious glances back at Isabela. Isabela shrugged and followed the two Grey Wardens, Grideon walking by her side and Castillon following reluctantly. They were heading even deeper now, and Isabela couldn’t help but feel a chill as they delved further and further into the belly of the world.

***

The group had made quick progress through the Deep Roads and Isabela was confident that, with Eleanor and Budwin backing them up, they’d have the Architect’s Seal and be heading back to Cain in a mere couple of hours. They’d been accosted by darkspawn at every turn but the pirates were yet to even raised their weapons, simply watching as the two Grey Wardens swiftly eliminated the creatures. Eleanor and Isabela had lead the group, while Grideon guarded the flank and Budwin skulked around the rear, shooting glares at the idle Castillon who had chosen a position of comfort in the middle of the group. The slimy Antivan’s sword hadn’t left it’s sheathe since they’d met the two Wardens.

“What brought you Wardens down into the Deep Roads?” Isabela inquired, making small talk with Eleanor. “I hear all the Wardens in the Free Marches are down here.”

“Warden-Commander Stroud was... not forthcoming with that information,” Eleanor replied tentatively. “We were told we were heading on a mass purge of Broodmother nests, but... there is a lot of uncertainty in the Wardens as of late. With the... revelations made during the Amaranthine Conflict and the absconding of the Hero of Ferelden, to say nothing of the discoveries made in the Primeval Thaig... I fear that I no longer know the true motives and plans of my order.”

Isabela considered this carefully. Eleanor was remarkably quick to trust, she noticed. Especially seeing as she hadn’t even asked why they wanted to meet with Stroud. It was odd for a Warden, especially compared to Budwin. Isabela couldn’t help but warm to her. She reminded her of another warrior woman she missed sorely, albeit Eleanor being slightly more... approachable.

“A few darkspawn up ahead,” Budwin said nonchalantly, casually drawing his blades as the group carried on. “Hmm... a few hurlocks. Quite a few, actually, but nothing we can’t handle.”

Eleanor drew her sword and the pirates hastily gathered their weapons in a panic. Isabela and Castillon fell back while Budwin and Eleanor headed to the front of the group. Grideon, as ever, hung wordlessly by Isabela’s flank, as loyal as always.

Sure enough, a strikingly large band of hurlocks blundered out of the darkness, hissing and baring their teeth at the Wardens and pirates. Budwin and Eleanor didn’t seem remotely fussed, however, and simply charged at the creatures.

That was their first mistake.

Before either Warden could pick it out, a taller hurlock emerged from the group to stand at the front. It was covered in strange piercings and skins and held in its hand a staff made from twisted black wood. As Eleanor and Budwin charged at the group of darkspawn this darkspawn mage, this pack leader thrust out its hand and sent a blast of kinetic energy barrelling into the two Grey Wardens. Eleanor stumbled as the wave washed over her and Budwin was completely taken off his feet, flipping backwards and hitting the ground with a thud. With the two Wardens incapacitated the hurlocks scrambled forward, teeth bared and weapons up, at Isabela and Grideon. Castillon took one look at the horde and ran back the way they came as fast as he could.

Isabela and Grideon met the horde with a roar and a snarl, Isabela’s blades slicing through flesh and Grideon’s mace crushing bone. The darkspawn were unusually fast and strong and the two pirates were quickly backed into a corner but Budwin and Eleanor had managed to regain themselves and joined in the melee, quickly trapped the horde between two pirates and two Wardens. Isabela cried victoriously as Eleanor took the hurlock emissary’s head from his shoulder with a single swing of her sword.

Isabela grinned mischievously as she tripped a hurlock and stabbed it in the heart as it hit the ground, and silently cursed as she saw a hurlock lunge for an unsuspecting Grideon. She leapt towards the creature, swiping at it with her daggers, but she merely managed to cut a shallow line through the hurlock’s hand. The wound stung, making the creature drop its weapon, but carried on with its attack regardless and slashed Grideon’s jaw. The dwarf cried out at the wound and spun around, lashing out with his mace and smashing it into the hurlock’s face. As the hurlock fell down, dead, Grideon clutched his wound and stumbled back.

“Grideon!” Isabela cried, dashing to help her bodyguard as Eleanor and Budwin mopped up the last of the darkspawn. He was stumbling around, as if dizzy, and he’d already gone pale.

“I... I... by The Stone...” Grideon muttered as Isabela ran up to him. “I... I...”

Isabela gasped as Grideon toppled over, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Eleanor and Budwin pulled their blades from the last darkspawn corpses, sheathed them and dashed over to join the two pirates.

“Oh Maker,” Eleanor said, shaking her head. Within mere seconds of being wounded Grideon’s skin had gone pale, and there were a few small, black veins spreading from the wound. “What happened?”

“One of those creature scratched the poor fool,” a voice said from behind them. Isabela sneered as she saw Castillon appear from the darkness.

“You pathetic coward,” Isabela spat. “Running off, leaving us here to die. Pathetic. If I didn’t need you...”

“He who fights and runs away, lives to run away again,” Castillon responded simply. “You were once the same as I...”

Isabela desperately wanted to kill him, but all she could see were the black veins spreading oh so slowly from the wound.

“Creators,” Budwin said. “I’ve never seen it spread this fast, even with Tainted blood in the wound. How can this have happened?”

“The darkspawn were stronger and faster than usual,” Eleanor said, holding out her hands over Grideon. A gentle wave of white light blossomed from her hands and spread slowly over the dwarf. The spread of black began to slow and Grideon’s breathing became less shallow. “I believe the emissary’s magic affected the Taint within them, improving them. The spread of Taint must have been among those abilities. I’ve done what I can to slow the spread but I can’t cure him. I’m sorry.”

“The... Wardens...” Grideon said, wincing and clenching his fists. His voice was surprisingly soft, Isabela noted. She’d hardly ever heard him speak. She may never get another chance to. “The Wardens... can... save me...”

“They can!” Isabela exclaimed, looking up at Eleanor and Budwin. “You can put him through your Joining! Make him a Grey Warden! Save him!”

“We...” Budwin faltered. “We don’t grant the honour to just anyone. Not even to save a life.”

Isabela sneered. “Grideon is worth it. He’s worth your order. Do it now!”

“We can’t,” Eleanor shook her head. “Only Stroud has the equipment for it. We’re but a few minutes away from the breeding ground, assuming the Wardens were victorious they’d have stopped to tend wounded after the battle. We may be able to catch them before they leave and, if Stroud is still alive, save your friend.”

Isabela nodded and Castillon sighed. Isabela stood up and helped Grideon to his feet, guiding the dwarf along as they carried on down the tunnel towards the other Wardens. The stakes on this mission had just gotten a lot higher.


	3. Heroes, Monsters and Thieves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grideon has been Tainted, meaning Isabela and her new Warden allies Eleanor and Budwin must press on even harder to find Stroud and the Grey Wardens of The Free Marches

“Captain... please...” Grideon pleaded as Isabela guided him along. “I’m slowing us down... just leave me...”

“There’s still hope for you, Grideon,” Isabela insisted. “Eleanor, Budwin, how far are the other Wardens?”

“I sense them a short while away,” Eleanor said reassuringly. “They should just be around this corner. Strange...” Eleanor murmured. For a second she looked uneasy. “This... this is where we last saw them. The breeding ground. And I... I sense a great many darkspawn... oh maker.”

“Ready your weapons,” Budwin said, drawing his blades. “The battle we left is still going on.”

Grideon defiantly took his arm away from Isabela and stood unsupported with shaking legs, drawing his mace, while Isabela and Eleanor drew their blades. Castillon skulked around the back and only drew his sword after a glare from Budwin.

“I’m not participating in any _battle_ ,” Castillon scoffed. “If I die down here then don’t expect Captain Cain to trust you enough to pay out.”

“Fine, you coward,” Grideon grunted. “Hang near the back... while the dying man heads off to fight.”

The group made it to the end of the tunnel and saw the battle in the breeding ground below them. Isabela clenched her fists and heard Eleanor gasp. There were merely two dozen Wardens left. Isabela felt sick in her stomach until she saw Stroud, shield and sword raised, decapitating a hurlock that was about to strike down an elven mage. Warden corpses littered the ground but Isabela could clearly see the hulking masses of several Broodmothers, and for every dead Warden there were twenty dead darkspawn. The Wardens could win this if they intervened.

Eleanor and Budwin wasted no time with battle cries or orders. Budwin leapt into the fray and had vanished within seconds, nothing more than a silver blur dancing through the hapless darkspawn faster than the eye could see. Eleanor, meanwhile, splayed out her hand and launched a colossal fireball that struck the latest and largest wave of darkspawn and obliterated them with the force of a cannon.

Isabela ran into the battle and cut down the first darkspawn that she saw, but the battle was already over. Filled with renewed valour at seeing reinforcements the Wardens fought with renewed valour and vigour. The last few darkspawn soon fell to their blades.

Stroud smiled warmly and Eleanor and Budwin as he wiped and sheathed his blade, shaking their hands firmly as he glanced over the darkspawn corpses.

“It’s good to see you both alive,” Stroud said sincerely. “I feared the worst when you were cut off.”

“Stroud!” Isabela cried, cutting off Eleanor and Budwin. She was holding Grideon, who was swaying dizzily as he tried to stay standing. His skin was almost completely white, and black veins ran through all his visible body.

“Maker!” a Warden warrior behind Stroud cried. “Isabela?”

The Warden warrior rushed forward to check on Grideon, gesturing Stroud to join him.

“He’s Tainted,” the warrior explained to Stroud. “It looks bad. If we wait a few more minutes even The Joining won’t be able to save him.

“You have to help him,” Isabela insisted. “I don’t care what you have to do. He... he’s my friend. Cure him, put him through your Joining, I don’t care. You have to save him.”

“I can vouch for him,” Eleanor said, stepping forward. “He’s a tough bastard, hard as nails. He’d be an asset.”

“Maker,” Stroud muttered. “A moment’s rest is all I ask... very well. Velanna,” Stroud gestured at the elven mage Warden Isabela had seen. “Come with me. We must prepare a Joining ritual for this man at once.”

And just like that, Stroud scooped up Grideon in his arms and dashed off with the elven mage Warden to a small cave by the battlefield.

“Maker,” Isabela said, wiping sweat from her brow. “That... that was...”

“Keep breathing,” the Warden warrior said. “Slowly. It’ll calm you down. Now, what in Andraste’s name are you doing down here?”

“What? I... who even are you?” Isabela asked. Everything had happened so fast, from finding the Wardens to winning the battle to seeing Grideon whisked away.

The Warden’s hands went up to his helmet and removed it, placing it on the ground beside him. Isabela felt a warm, welcoming feeling wash over her as she saw the familiar face of Carver Hawke.

“Carver!” Isabela said with relief. “It’s so good to see a familiar face.”

“I could say the same, Isabela,” Carver replied. “Although yours isn’t a face I expected to see down here. What are you doing here? Who was that dwarf? Who’s that?” He pointed at Castillon, who was standing there impatiently with his arms crossed.

“Oh that’s no-one,” Isabela waved dismissively at the skulking former slaver. “But that dwarf was my bodyguard. And my friend. A member of my crew. It’s Captain Isabela now, by the way.”

Carver shook his head and smiled. “A captain again at last... I assume my sister had a hand in that? What brings a buccaneer down into the Deep Roads?”

“I was about to ask the same thing,” Stroud said as he reappeared from the cave, eyeing Isabela suspiciously. “State your business, captain.”

“How is Grideon?” Isabela asked worriedly. “Did he... did he...?”

“Your friend is now a Grey Warden,” Stroud said simply. “He survived The Joining and is now unconscious but alive. I left Velanna to tend to him until he wakes up.”

Castillon sighed and rudely barged in between Stroud and Isabela. “Warden, my name is Castillon, Quartermaster aboard The Unknown Tomorrow, under Captain Percival Cain. My associate Captain Isabela and I are searching for an artefact we believe is in your possession.”

Isabela rummaged around in her pocket before pulling out Cain’s drawing of The Architect’s Seal. Castillon snatched it from her and presented it to Stroud.

“Trust me,” Isabela whispered to Carver. “I’m glad he’s not my Quartermaster.”

“This...” Stroud furrowed his brow, staring at the drawing. “How odd. I recognise this...”

“It’s the buckle of a belt,” Isabela explained. “It will have been given to you by Gadreel Mahariel. We need it.”

“Ah yes,” Stroud said. “I remember now. I sold it to one of the Senior Enchanters at Kinloch Hold, in Ferelden. The sum of coin I received was more than worth the item’s value as a belt. Why would you pursue such a thing?”

“What?” Isabela was dumbfounded. “Warden-Commander Stroud, we need that key. I-I mean that belt. Buckle. Belt buckle.”

“Key?” Stroud asked curiously. “What is going on here, captain?”

“The rumours must be true!” Carver exclaimed. “The Architect’s Lab! It’s real! They’re looking for the key to it!”

“Maker...” Stroud said, shocked. “It can’t be...”

“It is none of your business,” Castillon retorted rudely. “Isabela, the Warden-Commander was kind enough to tell us where he sold the seal. Come, let’s get back to the ship.”

“Not so fast,” Stroud said, raising his hand, and suddenly every Warden around them but Carver and Eleanor had their weapons drawn. “I barely know who you two are, and you are but a couple of pirate scoundrels. It would be best if I killed you both and went to Kinloch Hold myself to acquire this key.” Stroud stood there for what seemed like the longest time, staring Isabela down with a steely glare. “But I shall not. I know of Percival Cain, and I imagine a man as wily as him will have a necessary piece of the puzzle on his person. A map, perhaps?” The concerned looks on Castillon and Isabela’s faces told him all he needed to know. “Ah. So Cain has the map, you are simply looking for the key. Very well. I will permit you both to leave this place and go to retrieve the key on two conditions. The first is that when you acquire the research within The Architect’s Lab, you sell it to the Grey Wardens and the Grey Wardens only. The second is that I send along emissaries to ensure that you do not betray me.”

“Great,” Isabela sighed. “More guests.”

“I’ll go with them, Stroud,” Carver volunteered.

Stroud shook his head. “No, Carver. I do not trust you to remain neutral in this. Eleanor, Budwin, you are to join Captain Isabela’s crew to ensure that The Architect’s research ends up in Grey Warden hands. Do I make myself clear?”

Eleanor looked surprised at the order. Budwin looked horrified. A look from Stroud, however, saw them nod reluctantly at the order. Slowly, all of the Wardens sheathed their weapons and Eleanor and Budwin went to stand with Isabela and Castillon.

“Please feel free to return to your ship, captain,” Stroud said politely. “But do not forget our deal. We will remain here to patch up our wounded, and then leave by a different entrance. It has been a pleasure doing business with you, and we thank you for your aid in the battle.”

“Thank you, Stroud,” Isabela said carefully. “But... but I would like to say my goodbyes to Grideon before I leave.”

***

Isabela stepped into the cave where Grideon lay unconscious on the hard stone floor. His skin was no longer pale and black-veined but healthy and full, and his chest was softly rising and falling.

“He will awaken soon,” the elven mage, Velanna, said to Isabela coldly. “But I would not stay long. Important Warden business is underway.”

Isabela nodded, not really listening, and knelt down next to her friend. She’d barely ever spoken to him, and knew little of him. But he had protected her, and his protection had long stopped being about the fee he was paid. He was her friend. And now he was a Grey Warden. One she would likely never see again.

Captain Isabela took one last look at Grideon and then went to return to her ship, with one friend fewer than when she’d left.


	4. Reminiscence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabela and Castillon have returned to The Wicked Grace, Budwin and Eleanor now in tow. Their course set for Ferelden, the crew have some time to rest during their long journey

It was all silent aboard The Wicked Grace. Isabela and Castillon had returned to the ship with their new Warden escorts, Isabela dismissing Plecker’s questions with a simple order to set a course for Denerim. The ship had sailed on peacefully into the dusk and on through the night and now Isabela was sitting on a small crate in the middle of the deck, wordlessly sharpening a blade as the black waves lapped gently against the hull and the clear, moonlit sky made the ocean’s surface shine.

Isabela didn’t look up as Plecker went to sit by her, but she appreciated the gesture. Shortly after, Eleanor and Budwin joined them. Castillon stayed leant up against a cannon, staring blankly out at the horizon, and the rest of the crew continued their jobs aboard the ship. But those four stayed sat in the middle, listening to the sound of the waves.

“My father was a mercenary,” Eleanor said. She broke the silence, but did so with such a warm and gentle voice that it was as if nothing had changed. “He lead a company in Ferelden, near The Frostbacks, keeping the trade routes to Orzammar safe from bandits. My mother served under him, but she had little appetite for battle. She was a mage, a healer, with enough knowledge of combat magic to defend herself. When they had me they made me the best of both of them. As soon as I could summon a spark my mother was teaching me magic, and as soon as I could grip a blade my father was teaching me to be a warrior. I was a young girl, not even a teenager, when I first shed blood in battle. I was an asset to the company, a good daughter to my parents and I was good at what I did. Best of all, I enjoyed it. I was protecting people and making the world safer, and I did that for the first few years of my entire life.

Then there was a darkspawn raid. We’d just beaten a large group of bandits and we were all tired, some of us wounded, and had been driven back further into the mountains than we were used to. That was when the darkspawn attacked. We fought well, we lasted so long and killed so many, but there were just so many of them. We all fell one by one until it was just me and one other, a wounded man, left. Just as the last few darkspawn were about to finish us off they were cut down. It was a Grey Warden, an elf, a fairly new recruit named Magnus. He’d been scouting The Frostbacks on his own, looking to confirm reports of darkspawn scouting the surface, before sensing the group we fought and coming to our rescue. He was impressed with how we’d fared against the darkspawn and wanted me and the other man to join the Wardens. We had nowhere else to go, so we agreed. The other man died from his wounds on the journey, but me and Magnus made it to Montsimmard and I was put through The Joining. I was put through my Joining at the same time as Budwin, and two other Warden mages named Cassius and Clarel. Those last two I lost contact with long ago, but Budwin and I have been inseparable ever since.”

Budwin smiled warmly at Eleanor, which in turn bought a warm smile to Isabela’s lips at seeing the usually dour man looking so happy. Plecker was grinning too. Slowly, Isabela laid down her knife and whetstone.

“I was trained from birth by The Antivan Crows,” Budwin said, sitting up ready to tell his story. “Trained to be a silent, swift blade in the shadows. I was told all my life to kill whoever I was told, because I’d get money for it. But even at that age, that never seemed to stick for me. The boy I shared a room with, his name was Jarko Cassa, and he seemed to think the same way as I did. So one night we decided to sneak out, to escape. We snuck out without a hitch in the dead of night and got to the docks to find a group of Crows waiting for us. They were about to strike us down before a guard patrol spotted them and distracted them. I acted on instinct and knocked a lantern from a nearby post, starting a small fire that gave me cover to escape. Jarko ran from the docks and into the hills, I ran further into the docks and hid in the hold of a ship. I never saw Jarko again. I assume he’s dead. He probably assumes I’m dead. Either way, the ship set sail with me on it and I hid for three days before allowing myself to be discovered, hoping they’d be merciful and give me food. They were not as kind as I’d hoped and dragged me up onto the deck to throw me overboard. After I’d killed the aggressors that put the rest of the crew in line and they sailed me to Montsimmard, where I disembarked and would have been arrested if a young Warden named Riordan hadn’t found me and recruited me.”

“You Wardens certainly have some shady backgrounds,” Plecker said, grinning. “Guess heroes can come from anywhere.” He got up and stretched, taking a telescope from his belt, and went over to the port side of the ship to examine the horizon. “Hmm. Seems clear enough to me... no, wait. There’s a ship on the horizon, miles away. Seems to be pointed at us. Nevermind,” he said dismissively. “No way any interceptor would bother at this point. It would take them a few days’s sailing to catch up with us at the rate we’re going. They’re probably just sailing past us, or at least where we are now.”

“Say, Plecker,” Isabela said with a mischievous grin. “You say these Wardens have shady pasts. Mind telling them how you joined on with me?”

“Not much to tell,” Plecker said modestly, rejoining the others. “Ran with a gang in Amaranthine as a kid before deciding I wanted to make some real money. Signed on with a merchant ship’s crew just after The Blight, if I’d waited a week longer I’d have been arse-deep in darkspawn during the Amaranthine Conflict. Sailed for a few years but missed the life of crime. Laws and rules ain’t really for me. So I snuck off when we made port in Denerim and started picking pockets for a while until the guards caught me. Escaped prison within a couple of hours of being put there and ran for the docks, hoping to put that city and the guardsmen behind me for good. As soon as I heard about some woman from Kirkwall who was putting together a pirate crew I thought I’d found the perfect life, so I signed on. And here I am.”

“Practically leapt aboard my ship as soon as he saw it!” Isabela laughed. “Thought he was attacking us at first. Not that he’d have done much damage with that two-bit bow of his. Still, turned out he wasn’t that bad. Had worse Quartermasters.”

“Had better captains,” Plecker retorted teasingly. “Why don’t you tell us how you got set up, _Captain_ Isabela?”

Isabela sat up, grinned, and told them her story. She told them how she’d ended up shipwrecked off the coast of Kirkwall, how she’d first met Hawke, how she’d duelled Hayder and learned about Castillon. She told them about the Qunari invasion, about the Tome of Koslun, about Hawke duelling the Arishok after her return. She told them about how she’d bested Castillon and taken his ship, and how she’d been forced to flee Kirkwall after it had all come crashing down.

“Sebastian had left us,” Isabela said. “And Varric and Aveline had decided to stay in Kirkwall. Carver made his own way back to the Warden Keep, Anders vanished and Fenris chartered his own ship somewhere north, talking about ‘old friends’ and ‘debts to repay’. So I took Hawke and Merrill and dropped them off at a port near Amaranthine, before sailing to Denerim to whip up a full crew. A few months later I hear about Percival Cain and a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and now here I am.”

“Thank you so kindly for including me in your tale,” Castillon drawled sarcastically from where he stood, leant lazily again a cannon. “I could tell a great many stories about you, remember that.”

“Oh, don’t mind him,” Isabela waved dismissively. “Plecker, how long until we reach Denerim?”

“Not long,” Plecker said, getting up again and taking out his telescope. “Hard to say with wind as light as this. Once we get there we’ll pull into port and send the crew off on a nice, long shore leave. I’ll keep the ship intact while you take the Wardens and our sulking slaver friend to Kinloch Hold.”

Plecker raised the telescope to his eye and gazed out onto the horizon, furrowing his brow with a concern that worried Isabela.

“Is anything wrong?” Isabela said, pulling herself up and joining him.

“Nothing, nothing...” Plecker said. “Only... that ship. The one I saw earlier. It’s still pointed at us, aiming to intercept. And it’s much, much closer than it should be. Creators...” There was now a nervous tone to his voice. “I’ve never seen a ship move that fast. That’s impossible, surely. Captain, ready the men for battle. I don’t like where this is going.”


	5. The Songbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After seeing a mysterious and extremely fast-moving ship heading to intercept them on their course to Denerim, the crew of The Wicked Grace prepare for battle

Isabela stood at the stern of The Wicked Grace, staring through Plecker’s telescope at the ever-approaching ship while the crew dashing around, loading cannons and arming themselves. Plecker was co-ordinating the efforts to prepare the ship while Budwin and Eleanor were organising the defence force. Castillon had run off into the hold to hide.

“Who are you...?” Isabela muttered to herself, trying to get a better look at the ship and crew. The ship was small, thin and streamlined, cutting through the water like a knife. If this mysterious ship was planning on ramming them they’d be cut in half.

Isabela squinted through the telescope and scanned the deck of the ship. It looked like a fairly standard pirate crew, not privateers or pirate hunters. Suddenly, a figure on the helm caught her eye. A small man who appeared to be giving the orders, a skinny little man with a tricorn hat and what looked like... slicked-back black hair.

 “Oh for Andraste’s sake,” Isabela rolled her eyes.

“Any news, captain?” Plecker said, dashing over.

“It’s Cenred,” Isabela sighed. “That little idiot from Shipwreck’s Rest. What in The Maker’s name is he doing coming after me? Oh, nevermind. Tell the crew to continue preparing, while I get ready to have a stern word with my old friend.”

“The cannons are loaded, ma’am,” Plecker said nervously. “But we could never land a broadside hit on that ship, it’s too fast. The rate it’s going it’ll hit us any minute now, hit our port side and cut this ship in half. I... I don’t know what we should do, ma’am.”

Isabela pursed her lips and looked at The Songbird charging through the water, the hideous ram mounted on the front primed and ready. There was no way they could turn the ship in time to dodge that ram.

Unless...

“Plecker,” Isabela said. “On my order, tell all of the rear portside guns to fire at the same time. You hear me? ALL of the portside guns at the back end of the ship. And if we have time, start having as much cargo as possible moved from the back of the ship to the front.”

“Ma’am?” Plecker said, confused. Until it dawned on him. “Of course... you two!” Plecker pointed at three crewmen. “Go down to the hold and move as much cargo as you can from the back of the ship to the front, and tell the rear portside gunners to wait on my order to fire. Go!”

The crewmen dashed down into the hold and Isabela stood there, staring down the approaching ship. The Songbird was so close now she could make out Cenred’s face, a face lit up by expectations of victory. Any moment now...

“Now!” Isabela cried. “Fire!”

Just before The Songbird could ram The Wicked Grace and cleave the ship in two all the rear portside cannons fired at once. The cannonballs sailed past The Songbird but the force from the cannons firing, as well as the weight removed from the rear of the ship, saw The Wicked Grace swing violently ninety degrees to the right, dodging The Songbird with graceless ease. Isabela couldn’t help but smile as she saw the ship shoot past, Cenred’s dumbfounded expression making her laugh. The Songbird swiftly turned back to face The Wicked Grace, however

“Come and face me, Cenred!” Isabela cried from her ship, judging by his expression that Cenred had heard her. “Sail your ship up next to mine and let’s settle this honourably.”

Cenred reluctantly gave the order for The Songbird to pull up next to The Wicked Grace, and a plank was laid down bridging the gap between the two ships. Boldly, Cenred stepped onto the plank and tentatively walked across. He gave a high-pitched yelp when the plank creaked underfoot, but crossed nonetheless. The crew of The Wicked Grace were glaring at him, blades out, and there were beads of sweat dripping down his face.

“So what’s the story, Cenred?” Isabela said, striding up to the skinny little man. “Have you been following us since Shipwreck’s Rest? I think I can guess what you’re after.”

“H-H-Hand over the key,” Cenred stuttered, staring defiantly up at Isabela. “I know you have it. I want it.”

“You hear that boys?” Isabela gestured to her crew amidst laughs. “He wants the key! Well, Cenred, we don’t have it. Not yet. Fancy beating the information out of me? Give it your best shot. My men outnumber yours, and they’re more than willing to cut you down.”

“Your m-m-men can do they want to me,” Cenred stammered, but with uncharacteristic boldness. “But they won’t be fast enough to save you.”

Isabela shot a quick glance at Cenred’s crew, back on The Songbird. She hated to admit it, but Cenred was right. His crew were all armed with bows, and all of them were aimed at Isabela. This was going to be more difficult than she thought. But she had one last trick that always worked for her.

“Cenred,” Isabela said, taking off her hat and laying it down on the ground. “I challenge you to a duel. If I win, you take your men and go. Also, you’ll owe me a BIG favour. If you win we’ll tell you where The Architect’s Seal is. Deal?”

Cenred looked unsure, but steeled himself and pulled a short and stubby iron dagger from his belt. “Fine, Isabela. Let’s duel.”

Isabela pulled her two daggers from the sheaths on her back and stood before Cenred. The two captains circled each other, staring each other down as their crews watched. And then Cenred attacked.

His attack was clumsy and haphazard, but vicious enough that Isabela was forced to dodge it and try and parry the blow. She slashed at Cenred with her two kukri daggers, an obvious move that was easily ducked, especially by a man of Cenred’s height. He countered with a cruel jab at Isabela that she had to stumble back to avoid, giving him a chance to make a second lunge at her that cut into her hip. Isabela hissed in pain and swiped her blade at Cenred, cutting deep into his arm. Cenred howled and reeled back, dropping his dagger and clutching his wound, and Isabela wasted no time in taking advantage of the distraction. She kicked out hard at Cenred, her boot striking him in the centre of the face and knocking him to the ground. As Cenred wiped blood from his nose and tried to pull himself up Isabela lashed out again, kicking him in the side of the head. Cenred’s head struck the deck with an unpleasant thud, and the defeated captain lay on the deck of The Wicked Grace groaning with pain while the victorious Captain Isabela scooped up her hat from the ground and proudly placed it back on her head.

“Someone pick this sorry specimen up,” Isabela cackled as two of Cenred’s crewmen leapt over to The Wicked Grace to pick up their captain. “Looks like I’m the winner, Cenred. Take your men, if they’re still willing to follow you, and get out of my sight. And remember, you owe me a BIG favour.”

Cenred muttered a few uncreative insults under his breath as he picked up his blade and half walked, was half carried back to his ship. The plank between the two vessels was withdrawn and The Songbird sailed away.

“Good work there, ma’am,” Plecker said as he walked over to Isabela. “Shall we resume our course for Denerim?”

“We shall, Quartermaster,” Isabela replied. “It’s time we get our hands on this key.”


	6. Garrison of the Holy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wicked Grace has docked at Denerim, allowing Isabela to go on to the Circle Tower of Kinloch Hold and retrieve The Architect's Seal

The Wicked Grace turned several eyes as it glided swiftly into the port at Denerim, the lines and lines of cannons making more than just a few people nervous. Isabela was just glad she’d remembered to take down her black flag. She tipped her hat politely at the dock master before tossing him a bag of gold for use of the dock, hoping her charming smile would make up for the fact that the coins were all forged.

“Plecker,” Isabela called back to her Quartermaster, who was shouting orders at the crew. “Look after the ship. We’re renting some horses but I imagine it’ll take us a while to reach Kinloch Hold and get back, likely longer than a week. Castillon will send a messenger bird to Cain explaining the situation; just make sure you keep the crew in line while we’re gone. Tell them if they blow all their coin on drink and whores then they shouldn’t come running to you if they end up hungry.”

“Very well, ma’am,” Plecker smiled. “Do try and stay safe.”

Isabela, Castillon, Eleanor and Budwin stepped off the ship and into the bustling city of Denerim. Isabela hadn’t been here since during The Blight, and she’d managed to avoid the battle entirely, but it seemed like the city had recovered well. Plenty of the buildings were clearly new, but still had the same feel as some of the older ones. For Isabela cities always came second to the open sea, but she’d happily live in Denerim. Kirkwall? Kirkwall could go screw itself.

While Isabela had been taking in the city, Castillon had sent his message to Cain and Budwin and Eleanor had secured them all horses. A strong, proud black stallion for Eleanor. A sleek, slender grey horse for Budwin. A beautiful white steed for Isabela. Apparently there had been a mix-up with Castillon’s, however, and he’d ended up with a mule.

The two pirates and two Wardens walked their steeds to the city gates before mounting and galloping off, only the open road between them and their prize.

***

It had been many days of continuous, gruelling riding, but they had finally made it to Kinloch Hold. Eleanor had cast a spell on their mounts, making them run at twice the speed with half the need for rest. She’d been a lifesaver. As Isabela looked over her beautiful, pristine white horse, all she could think was how she’d rather die than ride a horse ever again. She was NOT looking forward to the ride back.

The four received a free ride from the boatman after Budwin had claimed they were on Warden business, and the group had made it across Lake Calenhad to the famous Circle of Magi tower of Kinloch Hold. The place where the great Gadreel Mahariel had slain an army of demons and gained himself an army of mages. Isabela wondered how the long-lost Warden-Commander would be feeling if he knew she hunted the treasure of his old enemy The Architect.

Budwin waved them past the guards with his simple tagline of ‘Warden business’, and the group was inside the Circle tower. Isabela could see Eleanor bristling and shivering with anticipation at all the magic in the air.

“Incredible...” Eleanor said wistfully. “The Veil is... so alive here. It’s glorious. I feel... I feel like I’m on top of the world.”

“Being here always makes me feel like that too,” a voice said from across the corridor. “Being around so much knowledge and so many amazing gifts is a true privilege.”

Isabela and the others turned to see an elderly mage in rich purple robes gliding up to them, smiling so warmly Isabela felt like the sun itself had turned its gaze on her. The mage nodded politely to Isabela and Castillon, and bowed humbly before Eleanor and Budwin.

“Greetings, Grey Wardens and companions,” the mage said. “My name is Archmage Wynne, and I welcome you to the Circle of Magi.”

“My humblest greetings, Archmage,” Eleanor said, bowing respectfully. Isabela and Budwin hastily joined her in awkward and clumsy bows. Castillon remained standing. “My name is Senior Warden Eleanor Hargreaves, these are Warden Budwin, Isabela and Castillon. We come seeking a treasure we believe was sold to this Circle by my Warden-Commander, Jean-Marc Stroud.”

“Ah yes, Stroud!” Wynne said fondly. “Always nice to hear from old friends. One must keep all old friends dear at times like these. What exactly is it you are searching for, my girl?”

Isabela handed Eleanor the drawing of The Architect’s Seal, which Eleanor showed to Wynne. The Archmage mused over the drawing for a while, squinting at it and deciding what to make of it.

“Most curious,” Wynne stated finally. “Yes, I believe I recognise this. It was a belt buckle, was it not? My friends, I am afraid you have had a wasted journey.”

“Oh for Andraste’s sake...” Isabela’s jaw nearly dropped. “The number of times I’ve had to hear that...”

“Several days ago, our Circle was attacked,” Wynne continued. “The Templars had kidnapped a young Chasind woman who they claimed was a mage, and had brought her here for the Rite of Tranquillity. Too violent, they said. Too strong, too unpredictable. She had to be neutralised for the good of all. Often, their methods can be cruel. They learned quickly just how dangerous she was, however, and how dangerous her people are. The warriors of a Chasind tribe raided the tower in the dead of night and killed several mages and several Templars before rescuing the young woman and raiding every supply cache they could access. An accounting of the repository was made, and that belt buckle was among them.”

“Do you know where they’ve gone?” Isabela insisted. “Do you know what happened to them after that? We have to know.”

“Calm down, dear,” Wynne said sternly. “The tribe fled back to their hold in the Korcari Wilds, and a group of our Templars gave chase. I believe several other Templars from other parts of Ferelden have joined them at Ostagar where they are besieging the Chasind in an attempt to get them to surrender the woman and the artefacts. The Chantry have sent a representative to supervise, and I’m sure she’ll ensure the artefacts are retrieved with minimal bloodshed.”

“We have to go there,” Isabela told the others. “We have to get there and join with the Templars, see if we can gain the key in exchange for our service.”

“It sounds to me like the Chasind were simply looking to help one of their own,” Budwin replied. “We could help them in exchange for the key.”

“We can sort it out when we get there,” Eleanor interjected. “Archmage Wynne, thank you for your help. Now everyone, let’s get back and saddle up. It’s time for more riding.”

***

Ostagar.

Isabela was exhausted from all the riding, but not too tired to not notice how breathtaking the fortress before her was. The iconic, ancient ruin that had stood against everything from barbarian hordes to a Blight and still stood the test of time. And now it was a garrison for Templars to launch incursions into Chasind territory. Ostagar was the military might of Ferelden, she realised, and as long as the walls of the fortress stood then so would the nation.

As the pirates and Wardens hitched their horses at posts near the camp, they were approached by three Templars with weapons drawn who’d come up from the main camp. Two had helmets on, but one was an older man, with close-cropped silver hair, a neatly-trimmed beard and whiskers. He stood at the front of the group with a commanding, aloof superiority and stared at the group with thinly-veiled suspicion.

“Halt!” the Templar ordered. “My name is Knight-Captain Cedric, Knight-Captain of Amaranthine, and by order of the Templar Order and The Chantry I command you to state your business.”

Isabela nodded at Eleanor, who took the lead in the group and nodded politely at the confrontational Knight-Captain.

“Senior Warden Eleanor Hargreaves,” Eleanor said, shaking Cedric’s hand firmly. “My associates are Castillon, Captain Isabela and Warden Budwin. We heard about the Chasind raid and wished to discuss it with your leader. We may be able to provide aid.”

“Interesting...” Knight-Captain Cedric said, eyeing her suspiciously. “Wardens don’t normally get involved in other causes, do they? And your friends? What are they, I wonder?” The more Cedric spoke the more he tried to puff out his chest, pompously attempting to make up for the fact that Eleanor was almost two heads taller than him.

“We can discuss that with your commanding officer,” Eleanor said civilly. “Could you lead the way?”

“I am the commanding officer of the Templar forces here,” Cedric replied. “But Brother Hundred is in overall command. Follow this way, Senior Warden. And be warned: Brother Hundred has no tolerance for troublemakers or non-believers.”

***

The group were lead to a tent in the middle of the camp, ignoring suspicious looks and mutters from the Templars around the camp. Cedric made an official-sounding ‘harrumph’ noise at the tent door and the flap was pushed open, covering Cedric who indignantly pushed the fabric down and composed himself as a dark-skinned, shaven-headed Templar stepped out of the tent. His smile was warm and genuine, much like Wynne’s, and Isabela warmed to him immediately.

“Ser Delrin Barris, ma’am,” the Templar said politely, taking Eleanor’s hand and kissing it before doing the same to Isabela. He then extended Budwin and Castillon firm handshakes. “Welcome to Ostagar. Might I say, if you’ll forgive the informality, that it is an honour to have Grey Wardens and their associates among us.”

“The honour is all ours, Ser Barris,” Eleanor said. “May we speak with your leader, this Brother Hundred? I believe we have a common goal.”

Barris lead the group into the tent, closing the flap on Cedric’s offended expression as he was excluded from the meeting. Barris pointed the group to a young, fresh-faced man sitting in the centre of the tent, the air around him thick with burning incense as he sat deep in meditation. His Chantry-brother robes were strange, Isabela noted: they were the traditional robes of the Chantry in Ferelden, but were a bright yellow where they should be white and a dark blood red where they should be brown. A Chantry sunburst was in the middle of his robes in a deep gold, but Isabela couldn’t help but notice a symbol of a skeletal bird in the middle of the sunburst.

“Your holiness?” Ser Barris said softly. “You have guests. Grey Wardens. They wish to assist in our efforts against the barbarians.”

Brother Hundred’s eyes stayed closed but he inhaled deeply through his nose, letting out a heavy exhalation through his mouth. Slowly, his eyes opened and he stared up at Isabela, Castillon, Eleanor and Budwin with curiosity.

“Grey Wardens?” Brother Hundred mused. “Interesting. We’ll stick the taller woman with the sword on the front line while the other one goes with the elf in the flanking team. The other man we’ll stick somewhere near the back. Dismissed.”

“I... oh. Of course, your holiness,” Ser Barris said, looked apologetically at Isabela and the others. “Please, follow me.”

The group followed Barris out of the tent, the tent flap once again covering Knight-Captain Cedric as they opened it.

“I must apologise for Brother Hundred,” Barris insisted as the group walked along through Ostagar. “He is a brilliant man but his methods are... strange. Very different to normal Chantry practices. Nevertheless, he is the man The Chantry sent to lead this attack, and so I am bound by oath to follow him. Here,” Barris said as they stopped outside a gate. “This is the main barracks, where our men are preparing for a battle in an hour. We’re making a major strike at the Chasind camp to draw them out onto the main battlefield, then striking with hidden flanking teams. I believe Knight-Captain Cedric wishes to take over from here.”

The group looked back to see Knight-Captain Cedric dashing towards them, stopping in front of them and holding his knees as he began panting.

“If you... would be so kind... as to follow me... honoured guests...” Cedric spluttered between pants. “Into... the barracks... for briefing. Barris... you are dismissed.”

Ser Barris nodded politely to the group before leaving them in the capable, profusely sweating hands of Knight-Captain Cedric. Eventually, the Knight-Captain caught his breath and straightened up.

“Very well then,” Cedric said curtly. “Brother Hundred has given you your places, now please, follow me to the barracks. Our Chantry representative’s word must be obeyed, and you must be instructed about the coming battle.”

Isabela followed Cedric and the others towards the barracks, but not before shooting one final look back at Brother Hundred’s tent. Something was off about him. His strange robes. His peculiar methods of meditation. And then there was what Wynne had said about the Templar deployment to Ostagar.

‘The Chantry have sent a representative to supervise,’ Wynne had said. ‘And I’m sure she’ll ensure the artefacts are retrieved with minimal bloodshed.’

Wynne had told them that the Chantry representative was a woman. Whoever this Brother Hundred was, there was far more to him than met the eye.


	7. Maker's Fist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabela, Castillon, Eleanor and Budwin have joined a mighty army of Templars in Ostagar lead by a mysterious monk in order to conquer a Chasind keep and retrieve The Architect's Seal from inside

“No!” Castillon cried. “I won’t do it! I simply refuse! You cannot expect me to enter a war! This is outrageous!”

Castillon stood stamping his foot impetuously in the tent the group had been given while Eleanor bickered with him, Isabela insulted him and Budwin nonchalantly sharpened his dagger. Their attempts to convince Castillon to work with the plan were yet to bear fruit.

“You’ll be stuck somewhere at the back,” Eleanor explained for the hundredth time. “Meanwhile, I’ll be helping lead the charge and Isabela and Budwin will be among the ambush team. As soon as we get into the main Chasind camp we’ll sneak off, loot the place until we find the key and then run.”

“IF we get there,” Castillon retorted. “No treasure is worth dying for.”

“I think it’s worth you dying,” Isabela muttered.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be fighting at all.”

All eyes in the room turned to Budwin, who was still sharpening his dagger without looking up. But he’d said enough.

“We shouldn’t be helping the Templars,” Budwin said, still not meeting anyone’s gaze. “We should be helping the Chasind in exchange for the key. I took an oath as a Warden to protect people, not conquer them. I don’t like the Templars. I don’t like what they do. I don’t like what they’re doing here. I don’t trust Knight-Captain Cedric, and I certainly don’t trust Brother Hundred.”

Castillon scoffed and muttered something about ‘wilders’, but Isabela and Eleanor looked uncertain. Finally, Eleanor shook her head.

“We could never make contact with the Chasind, or be sure that they’d work with us. There’s no point in arguing. Let’s get ready for the battle.”

***

 

Isabela and Budwin stood behind a rise in the otherwise flat expanse of the Korcari Wilds, the very rise that Loghain Mac Tir hid his troops behind in preparation to ambush the darkspawn horde. With them were dozens of lightly-armoured Templars, armed to the teeth and ready to do battle with the Chasind hordes that would be drawn out by the main Templar army.

“I can’t help but feel Grideon would be a great help here,” Isabela said remorsefully. “I always felt safer in a fight knowing he had my back.”

“Grideon is still helping,” Budwin replied comfortingly. “Just more people, and in a different way. He’ll be a great Grey Warden, and Thedas has you to thank for that.”

Isabela peeked over the rise to the main fortress of Ostagar. The main Templar army, Knight-Captain Cedric and Eleanor Hargreaves at its head, was marching from the fortress towards the Chasind keep. From where she was Isabela could see the keep and it was a fearsome sight. It looked like it had stood for a hundred years, not been thrown together hastily by the Chasind after word of the incoming Templars. There were wooden walls a hundred feet high lined with cruel and vicious splinters and topped with spikes, battlements crawling with Chasind archers and, behind those walls, a whole army of wilder warriors. The Templars had their work cut out for them, Isabela saw, as the Chasind army was beginning to emerge from their fortress upon seeing the Templar army approaching. Brother Hundred had been right. The Chasind weren’t content to hide and defend. They were going to take the fight to the enemy.

“Oh look,” Budwin said, nodding to the battlements of Ostagar. “Our great leader has come to spur us on.”

Brother Hundred had come out onto the battlements of Ostagar and spread his arms out wide, addressing his mighty army and the enemy that stood before them. He looked just as spiritual as when he’d been meditating, but this time there was more to him. He looked complete.

“My holy legion!” Brother Hundred cried, his voice echoing across the wilds from Ostagar. “Bring forth the righteous demise of these heathen wildmen and spread your Maker-given glory to the depths of their godless lands! Spread the good work of The Maker, His Chosen Prophet and Her exalted... Disciples!”

The speech had been rousing, but Isabela and Budwin hadn’t missed that hesitation at the end. What had happened? What had Hundred meant to say instead? No matter. The battle was about to begin.

Isabela stared in awe as the mighty Templar legions, resplendent in their silver armour, marched forwards in a foreboding and ominous fashion. She felt shivers down her spine as she saw those blank, faceless men in their helmets and armour marching forwards, shields up and blades out. She felt renewed vigour as she saw the proud Chasind warriors, their bare, tattoo-covered muscular torsos rippling as they strode on forwards with their mighty war axes and clubs. And the more they marched the closer they got to their ambush.

“Wait for it...” the Templar commander at the head of the group whispered to the ambush team, including Isabela and Budwin. “Just wait for the beacon to be lit before we strike...”

All eyes were fixed on the legendary Ostagar beacon, teeth grinding and fists clenched as they waited with bated breath for the signal could go up...

And then they heard another signal. A horn, sounding from the Chasind camp.

“It’s a trap!”

Isabela heard a scream and spun around to see a band of Chasind warriors charging towards the ambush group, their surprise attack giving them all the advantage they needed to quickly cut their way through them. All Isabela and Budwin could do was scramble backwards as the leader of the Chasind ambush, a huge tan-skinned man with a huge scar across his torso and burns on one side of his face, cut down all the Templars around them with a pike twice as long as he was tall. As Isabela and Budwin scrambled backwards they found themselves tumbling over the rise and into the main battlefield.

It was chaos.

The Templars had been outplayed. They had only planned one ambush, an ambush that had been quickly rooted out before it could strike. The Chasind were ambushing from all directions. Chasind soldiers were pouring out of the forest and tearing the hapless Templar soldiers apart from all angles while they panicked, unable to decide which foe to strike at. As Budwin pulled himself up he saw Ser Barris struck on the head and go down, and Knight-Captain Cedric tossed aside by a huge Chasind warrior twice his size. Eleanor had been completely lost in the fray, Castillon was running away and Isabela was fending off a vicious Chasind with a rusted hatchet. As quickly as he could Budwin had leapt to his feet and drawn his dagger, spinning around as he heard a cry behind him. He saw the scarred, burnt Chasind who’d ambushed them charging towards him, the blunt polearm end of his pike pointed straight at Budwin, and the elven Warden tried to run or dodge it or attack but the Chasind thrust it out and the polearm struck him in the forehead and-

Budwin felt a rush as the light went out and the world disappeared around him.

***

Eleanor, Isabela and Castillon sat back in their tent, silently bandaging their wounds and ignoring the thick, perpetual silence that hung around them. Castillon seemed to care little, however, and was happily drinking a bottle of some kind of foul-smelling spirit he’d pilfered from the stores. Isabela imagined it would have been used in victory celebrations, but there would be none of those today. Not after the Templar army had been cut in half by losses to the Chasind. Not after they’d lost Budwin. Isabela hadn’t seen him go down, she hadn’t seen him fall, but after they’d gotten back to Ostagar she and Eleanor had gone around the entire fortress three times calling his name before realising he hadn’t come back.

Brother Hundred had been furious with the loss, tossing aside his calm and tranquil demeanour to scream and swear at an astounded Knight-Captain Cedric in front of all of the men. It seemed unlikely that there was any chance of the army even getting close enough to the Chasind keep to die on its grounds, let alone conquer it.

“Maybe Budwin was right,” Isabela murmured under her breath. “Maybe we should have sided with the Chasind. Gotten the key. And not gotten him killed.”

Before Eleanor could respond the tent flap opened and Ser Barris came in, the silent tension immediately washing over him. His expression was one of genuine sympathy, which did nothing but make Isabela feel worse.

“Brother Hundred has sent letters to Denerim, Redcliffe, Amaranthine, Highever and Kinloch Hold. He’s even considering sending word to Val Royeaux. Templars from all across Ferelden will be heading south to join our army and crush this barbarian menace. I just wish it could bring back your friend.”

“Thank you, Ser Barris,” Eleanor said solemnly. “We will stay, of course. Our cause... must be fulfilled.” But her tone clearly suggested otherwise.

“If there is anything I can do for you, simply send word,” Ser Barris said comfortingly. “Although,” he said, shooting a sideways glance at Castillon. “At least one of you seems happy.”

And with that, Barris left them to their sombre silence.

***

Everything was dark.

Budwin had woken up a while ago, but everything was still dark. Around him he could hear voices, feel prods, smell scents such as tanning leather and burning logs, but he still couldn’t see. Was he blind? No. The air he breathed was hot and stuffy. He had a bag over his head.

As soon as he realised the bag was there it was taken from his head and he drew in a deep breath of fresh air as he took in his surroundings. Mud huts. Open fires. Leather being tanned, weapons being forged, meat being prepared. Wounds being tending to. And around him were people. Huge, muscular, tattooed people in leathers with spears and clubs and axes. A few stuck out: a heavily pregnant woman, a bearded man upon a throne of bone, and the scarred, burnt man who’d ambushed him. There was a shorter but still hulking man stood next to him with a war hammer slung over his back and dreadlocks in a ponytail down to his waist. They all stood staring at him, their curiosity clear, before the scarred and burnt Chasind stepped forwards to speak with him.

“We welcome you, long-eared man,” the Chasind said. “My name is Senn. And you are our prisoner.”


	8. Where the Wild Things Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Templar army's bitter defeat by the Chasind army Isabela, Eleanor and Castillon have limped back to Ostagar to reflect on their loss, mourn Budwin and investigate the mysterious Brother Hundred. However, unbeknownst to them, Budwin is alive and being held prisoner by the Chasind

Senn knelt down to have a look at Budwin, staring at his ears with fascination and looking at his reflection in his Warden armour. Finally, the man on the throne of bones spoke up.

“Son,” the man said. “Step back from the long-ear and take him forward. I wish to hear from him.”

Senn and the dreadlocked Chasind roughly grabbed Budwin and tossed him forwards to kneel before the man on the throne. He was clearly some kind of Chieftain, which meant that Budwin was worth something to them. He hadn’t seen any other prisoners, let alone ones brought to stand before the Chief.

“Good,” the Chief said. “Do you understand why you have been spared, long-ear? Why you are brought forward to stand before Chief Kredoc and not simply slain where you stood on the field of battle?”

“I do not, Chief Kredoc,” Budwin said as respectfully as he could. These people obviously thought he was special enough to keep alive. He wanted to keep it that way.

“You intrigue us,” Chief Kredoc said plainly. “Neither I nor my men have laid eyes upon a long-eared man such as yourself before, lithe of body and swift of movement. We wish to know what you are, and why you stood among those who wished us harm.”

“My name is Budwin,” Budwin replied, looking down submissively. “And I am an elf. I sought merely to use your enemies to my advantage. There is... something I seek.”

“The long-ear seeks something within our camp!” a woman’s voice sounded behind him. Budwin saw the heavily pregnant woman he’d seen before walk into his field of vision to stand by Chief Kredoc’s throne. “We should kill him now, lest he bring raiders and outsiders and further enemies upon us.”

The Chasind cheered, but Budwin barely heard them. He barely even acknowledged the call made for his death. All he could do was focus on one thing: the pendant tied onto a string around the woman’s neck. It was unmistakable.

It was The Architect’s Seal.

“Order!” Kredoc cried to silence the cheering Chasind. “I will have order!” The jeers slowly petered out. “My daughter, your calls for this man’s death are premature. First, we must understand him.”

“I agree, father,” Senn said, stepping forwards. “This man says he simply sought to use our enemy as a tool. Perhaps he does not fully understand their intentions.”

“What is there to understand?” the pregnant woman scoffed. “Those vile men seek to destroy our very way of life, and you, Senn, would allow them. Perhaps you are not the Chieftain we need.”

“How dare you!” Senn’s dreadlocked companion thundered, storming forward and placing his hand on his war hammer. “That is no way to speak to your future Chieftain.”

“Calm down, Tonbar,” the woman said, scolding. “Sycophancy is a dislikeable quality.”

There was notable division among the Chasind, Budwin noted. Half of them seemed to be forming a group behind Senn, while the others were forming a group behind the woman with Chieftain Kredoc in the middle, clearly attempting to keep the peace. The woman, Budwin noticed, was considerably more eloquent than the other Chasind and carried herself with a cool confidence.

“Enough.” Chieftain Kredoc ordered, but with considerable exasperation. “You, you call yourself an ‘elf’. Do your people truly not know of the plight faced by mine, in the face of this current threat?”

“I swear by my Creators and whatever gods you hold dear,” Budwin insisted. “I know little of their intentions. I hear that their actions are a response to a Chasind raid on one of their towers, however.”

Kredoc considered for a moment before pulling himself up out of his throne. It was then that Budwin saw the vast size of the man. He was loaded with muscle and twice the size of even the mighty Senn. His tattoos covered every visible part of his body and he had a thick, bushy brown beard that matched his hairy chest. He towered over Budwin before taking a step towards his daughter and placing a huge, muscular arm around her.

“My daughter Magdalena has a gift,” he said proudly. “We call her a Shaman. I believe outsiders refer to her as a ‘mage’. She can summon fire from air and turn water into ice. She is truly a blessed woman. However, outsiders see her as a threat, a danger. She has spent much of her life travelling and exploring the outside lands, returning to us with fantastical tales of things such as forests made of stone houses, bearded men as high as my knee, long-ears such as you. After her last trip into the outside world she returned to reveal she was with child. She was nurtured, cared for, treated like a priestess. But we found that she had revealed her gifts to the outside world and been followed back by men calling themselves ‘Templars’. They plucked her away while she was by the stream, slayed two of my finest warriors and took her to their tower on a lake. I sent my son-and-heir Senn with his bodyguard Tonbar to raid this tower and take back Magdalena, as well as any treasures they could acquire.”

“I... I understand,” Budwin said. “May... may I stand?” Kredoc nodded, and Budwin got to his feet. “Chasind, I understand why you do battle with the Templars. My friends and I came here seeking a treasure, hoping to use the Templars in order to acquire it. Knowing what I know now, I would have us take a different path. Allow me to return to my friends and I will bring them to this camp. We will fight by your side in... in exchange for... a prize.” Budwin said those last words as carefully as he could, the tension in the air palpable.

“Liar,” Magdalena scoffed. “He will betray us. Sneak off and rejoin his ‘Templars’. This man is not to be trusted.”

“I vouch for the long-ear,” Senn retorted. “I believe his story.”

“I too believe that the long-ear can be trusted,” Kredoc said carefully. “But do not trust him enough to relinquish him. Long-ear, if you truly believe my people are in the right, stay with us. These ‘Templars’ are surely planning another incursion. Fight with us against them and we will consider allowing you to contact the rest of your tribe.”

“That... will do...” Budwin said carefully, his eyes still on The Architect’s Seal around Magdalena’s neck. “And my prize?”

“That will be discussed,” Kredoc said dismissively. “Senn, Tonbar, you are to show this long-ear around our camp. He is not to leave your sight.”

***

Budwin was escorted through the camp by Senn and Tonbar, ignoring scathing looks from various Chasind as Senn pointed at various huts and statues and Tonbar returned the glares for him. Finally, the three men arrived at a small, grey stone slab at the end of the keep. It reminded Budwin of a tomb. There was a familiar looking symbol on it, he noticed. A skeletal bird. He’d seen that symbol before.

“Ah,” Senn said, noticing Budwin’s interest. “This is... interesting to you, yes? It has been among my people for almost a thousand years. It is a grave. That is all we know. That is what our ancestors told us, and what their ancestors told them, and their ancestors before them told the same stories. Many yearn to see what is inside but to dig up a grave would tempt spirits and desecrate the final resting place of this man.”

“But who is buried here?” Budwin said, peering at the symbol. “There’s no name, just... that.”

“The symbol of those called the Alamarri,” Senn said. “They were us before we were us. A collection of tribes that existed long before the Chasind, or those who live in the mountains. They eventually became the outsiders, and forgot their old ways. So we remember them for them. This grave belongs to a man with many names, many faces. Many of the Alamarri once saw him as a hero, but something happened and I believe the outsiders today see him as a monster, a traitor. I know he is of some religious significance. A trickster god, perhaps, or a false prophet. I doubt we shall ever truly know.”

Senn and Tonbar then turned and walked away, gesturing for Budwin to follow. He did, but shot a wary look back at that tomb. He knew that symbol, the image of a skeletal bird. And he knew he wasn’t the only person who’d seen it before. It was the symbol within the Chantry sunburst on Brother Hundred’s robes.

***

Budwin sat in a cold, unfamiliar tent in a cold, unfamiliar camp in the middle of swampy lowland. He hated it here, even with the weak fire crackling in the middle of the tent. He was glad to be on the right side in this great Chasind-Templar conflict, but he wished that Eleanor was here with him. He wished Isabela agreed to go to the Chasind with him, or that Plecker had joined them and been captured out of curiosity the same as him. He’d even be happy for the familiar face of Castillon. The worst thing was that he’d soon be seeing his friends again, only this time on opposing sides of a war.

“May I... come in?”

Budwin craned his neck to see Tonbar enter the tent bashfully, unsure if he should be speaking with the strange long-eared man alone. Budwin gestured for him to take a seat next to him, and the Chasind bodyguard nervously sat down. He was as muscled and scarred as the average Chasind, Budwin noted, but also notably shorter. Perhaps that was why he hung by the side of such a figure as Senn.

“I don’t want to fight tomorrow,” Budwin said suddenly. “I have no problem with killing Templars or fighting for the Chasind, but I don’t want to fight my friends. I just want to take my... my prize and leave to go find them.”

“I... I can’t imagine fighting a friend,” Tonbar said. His voice was simple, giving the impression that he wasn’t particularly bright, but he seemed a good and honest man. “The tribe is my family and friends. I could never fight them. I could never do what you’re doing.”

“But I’m going to have to,” Budwin said finally. “Because I simply have to. It is my duty.”

And the two simply sat there for a while, staring at the fire and watching the flames slowly die.

***

Budwin and Tonbar had been rudely awakened by a Chasind messenger, who had been as surprised to see that Tonbar had slept in Budwin’s tent as both Budwin and Tonbar had been. The two of them had been taken to stand with the mighty Chasind army, who were preparing their weapons and encouraging each other. Senn was on a platform above the army, while Chief Kredoc looked on from his throne and Magdalena skulked behind him, The Architect’s Seal around her neck.

“This outsider army, which we now know to be called ‘Templars’, is launching another attack on our keep,” Senn told the army. “Their numbers appear to have increased and it is likely that many, many more are on the way, so we must strike them hard. We must hit them as hard as we can to send them running back to their fortress. Then, we will make a counter attack. Conquer them before they conquer us.”

This news sent murmurs rippling through the crowd and made Budwin’s stomach twist. Senn did his best to allay the fears of his men.

“This time my sister will be aiding us with her great magic,” Senn reassured them, nodding to Magdalena. “A move our enemy will not expect. We will beat back this threat and destroy it entirely, before our entire way of life is destroyed. We do not shy from battle! We do not allow our destruction! We are Chasind!”

This speech seemed to have inspired confidence in the Chasind as the army was soon whooping and cheering and baying for blood. Tonbar was yelling and thrusting his war hammer in the air. But all Budwin could feel was a sense of dread. Eleanor and Isabela were out there, and he was being sent to meet them with a blade in each hand.

***

Eleanor marched forward at the front line of the Templar army, flanking Knight-Captain Cedric at his left along with Ser Barris, who stood by his right. Steadily the army marched on, towards the Chasind army that awaited them. She would make them pay, she swore it. Every one of them would fall before her blade after Budwin’s death.

As the Chasind army drew closer cheers and battle cries began to erupt among the Templars as the march slowly but surely increased into a charge. Eleanor held her blade tightly in both hands as she pressed on, ready to face the Chasind head on and-

Eleanor was thrown forwards as the huge fireball struck the Templar army right in the centre, obliterating dozens of Templars in a single attack and throwing several off of their feet. Eleanor gasped as she pulled herself up, wiped her brow of soot and looked for where the attack could have come from. It was then she saw the tall woman standing in the distance upon the battlements of the Chasind keep. She must be the apostate the Chasind had raided Kinloch Hold to save. Eleanor then turned and saw the devastation the attack had caused. Knight-Captain Cedric was barking orders while Ser Barris was helping up the wounded. Eleanor picked out Isabela and Castillon at different points in the crowd. They were ok.

“Chasind!”

Eleanor heard the cry and saw the Templar pointing, turning to see the Chasind army surging towards them. Eleanor raised her blade and cut down a Chasind soldier that had been about to strike her down, but many of the unprepared Templars weren’t as lucky as the sheer force of the Chasind hit them. Within seconds dozens more Templars were killed, falling beneath Chasind clubs and axes. One figure leapt from the midst of the army to strike at her with two long daggers, a blow she blocked with her greatsword just in time. She locked blades with her assailant, allowing her to have a look at his face.

It was Budwin.

“Eleanor!” Budwin said, continuing to hold back her greatsword with her blades. “Keep this up, don’t let the Templars or Chasind think anything is wrong. Now listen, we don’t have much time.”

“Budwin!” Eleanor cried, aghast, as the battle raged on around them. “You’re alive! What happened? Where have you been?”

“The Chasind captured me,” Budwin explained. “And I’m fighting with them now. The mage, the one that dropped that fireball, she has The Architect’s Seal. I plan to try and earn it as a prize from them in exchange for service in this war. But listen, there’s something else going on here. The symbol on Brother Hundred’s robes, the skeletal bird, it’s the symbol of the Alamarri. There’s an anonymous grave in the Chasind camp with that symbol on. Trust me, whatever is in that grave, THAT is what Hundred is here for. He’s not working for The Chantry, he has no interest in Chasind or Templars or apostates. He’s leading this army so he can get to whatever’s in that grave.”

“I’ll get Isabela and Castillon!” Eleanor said. “We can join you among the Chasind, stop the Templars, and get that key!”

“No!” Budwin replied. “You need to find Isabela and Castillon and you need to retreat, get out of this battle. Find out who Brother Hundred is and what it is he wants. Find out who is buried in that grave. Then meet me by the stream that runs into the Chasind camp and I’ll let you in. We can explain everything to the Chieftain. We can defeat the Templars, we can save the Chasind, we can stop Hundred, we can gain The Architect’s Seal but we NEED to learn what we’re up against.”

“I...” Eleanor looked at Budwin’s face, at her blade locked with his, and felt a tear well up in her eye. “Ok. Ok, I’ll do it. Goodbye, Budwin. At least for now.”

And with that, Eleanor kicked out at Budwin and sent him flying back, hitting the ground with a thud. She then turned away from him, away from the battle, and ran.


	9. The Disciples of the Sacred Betrayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Budwin has joined with the Chasind to oppose the Templar invasion of the Korcari Wilds, but before he can be joined by Isabela, Eleanor and Castillon they must first uncover the secret of the mysterious Brother Hundred.

“Well over a hundred men lost...” Knight-Captain Cedric said, burying his head in his hands. “At this rate I’ll never become Knight-Commander.”

Knight-Captain Cedric sat in the tent with Eleanor, who was pretending to be comforting while Castillon drank. Isabela had heard that Brother Hundred was meeting with Ser Barris and taken her chance to infiltrate his tent while she could.

Isabela had been thrilled to hear that Budwin was alive, and even happier to hear that he’d located The Architect’s Seal. They’d soon hatched a plan to get to the bottom of the mystery of Brother Hundred before sneaking off to the Chasind keep. Castillon hadn’t cared too much, but had at least reacted to the news of Budwin’s survival. Not that any of them cared too much what he thought. Knight-Captain Cedric stumbling into their tent to pour out his heart hadn’t been planned, however. Right now Eleanor was meant to be on lookout for Isabela outside Hundred’s tent. Instead she was trying to tell a grown man that she wasn’t disappointed in him.

“I... I... just...” Cedric shook his head. “All I ever wanted was to be a Templar Knight. After that happened I wanted to be a Knight-Lieutenant, then a Knight-Captain... and now... will I ever be Knight-Divine, do you think?”

Judging by Cedric’s quivering bottom lip Eleanor doubted that he was the right material to lead every Templar in Thedas, but placed her hand on his shoulder and nodded nonetheless. She regretted it immediately as Cedric pulled her into a tight embrace. Castillon snickered as the Templar hugged Eleanor as tightly as he could.

“Thank you...” Cedric sobbed. “I... I just... thank you so much... for believing in me...”

Eleanor gritted her teeth and thought about knocking him out, but resisted the urge. They hadn’t switched sides just yet. She just hoped Isabela would get back soon.

***

Brother Hundred’s tent stank of incense, dozens of different scents and flavours all merging into one sickly combination. As Isabela picked the lock on Hundred’s chest she found herself praying for a free hand to hold her nose. After several more turns the lock sprang open and Isabela’s hand went over her mouth and nose as soon as possible. She peered inside the trunk and saw a fairly standard collection of items: a spare set of robes, a medical bag, and a dagger. Curious as to why a supposed man of faith would travel armed; Isabela took the dagger from the chest and peered at it. It had clearly been well-scrubbed but there was still a small bloodstain and a tiny piece of pale yellow cloth on the end.

“Well,” Isabela muttered. “Now we know what happened to the real Chantry emissary.”

Isabela placed the dagger back and rummaged through the rest of the trunk, lifting up the spare set of robes to see a strange bundle wrapped in cloth. Suspicious of the strange package, Isabela pulled it out and unwrapped the bundle to reveal a large tome. It looked just like a copy of The Chant of Light, complete with a Chantry sunburst in the middle, but it had considerably fewer pages and, the detail that stuck out the most for Isabela, a small insignia of a skeletal bird within the sunburst. Curiously, she opened the tome.

_‘THE CHANT OF TRUTH’_

A bold title, Isabela thought, turning to the next page.

_‘Spite ate away all that was good, kind, and loving till nothing was left but the spite itself, coiled 'round my heart like a great worm._

_And in my darkest hour, I turned from Her and vowed that I would destroy Her._

_At the moment of Her death I knew what I had done, and I wept._

_I shall bring the lands of my fathers to Her Word. Therein lies their salvation and mine._

_And She came to me in a vision and laid Her hand on my heart._

_Her touch was like fire that did not burn. And by Her touch, I was made pure again._

_Despair not, said She, for your betrayal was Maker-blessed and returned me to His side._

_I am forgiven._

_-The ‘dissonant’ Canticle of Maferath, from the Chant of Light_

“Sweet Maker Isabela,” she whispered to herself as she read on. “What have you gotten yourself wound up in this time?”

_‘Upon turning in the holy Prophet Andraste, Bride of the Maker, to the vile mages of the Tevinter Imperium, the Sacred Betrayer Maferath fulfilled his holy duty and was forgiven by The Maker himself for his vital role in Mankind’s redemption in flame. But the world would forget this man’s sacrifice, a sacrifice greater than even Andraste’s. They would forget that the Sacred Betrayer is as exalted as The Maker’s Bride, and cast his name in dirt beneath her pedestal._

_We do not forget._

_We will not relent._

_We are The Disciples of the Sacred Betrayer._

_The Sacred Betrayer will be redeemed.”_

***

“Brother Hundred is a cultist.”

Isabela had packed away all of Hundred’s belongings, locked the chest and sped off back to the tent, just missing an emotional Knight-Captain Cedric on his way out of her tent. She had burst in to see a weary Eleanor and a tipsy Castillon before blurting out her news.

“A what?” Castillon mumbled, stumbling across the room.

“He’s part of a cult that worships Maferath,” Isabela said. “He murdered the Chantry emissary and now he’s taken control of the Templars.”

“To do what?” Castillon retorted, his words slurred. “Weird Chantry bugger can do what he wants... just want my gold...”

“The symbol on his robes was on a tome I found,” Isabela continued, talking to Eleanor. “Budwin told you it was the symbol of the Alamarri, right?”

“Yes,” Eleanor said. “And Maferath was leader of the Alamarri... Maker, Isabela, what if it’s his symbol? So that anonymous grave that Budwin found in the Chasind camp, the one he thinks Hundred is after...”

“Andraste’s tits...” Isabela said. “It couldn’t be.”

“I think it is,” Eleanor replied, stunned. “I think that within the Chasind keep is Maferath’s grave.”

“The Disciples of the Sacred Betrayer, they call themselves,” Isabela said. “And they’re obsessed with making the people of Thedas forgive Maferath. I bet that Brother Hundred thinks the key to doing so is in that grave. And that could only be... you’re a mage, Eleanor. Would it be possible? Could Maferath’s spirit still haunt that grave?”

“It almost certainly would,” Eleanor said. “Almost certainly. This... this might just be the most important historical discovery made in the past century. Even more important than The Architect’s Lab.”

“So more money?” Castillon was suddenly interested.

“Hopefully,” Isabela said. “But what we need to do first is get the Templars away from it, which means linking up with Budwin and the Chasind. We need to leave now.”

As quickly as they could the group packed up their things, Eleanor attempting to sober up Castillon by shocking him with a bolt of lightning. Finally, the trio hurriedly made their way out of the tent.

And straight into the waiting Ser Barris.

The three of them backed away as Barris drew his blade and stared them down, a steely look of disappointment in his eye.

“I heard everything you said,” Barris said coldly. “You’re betraying us. You’ve been working against us from the start. Placing your friend inside the Chasind. Spying on Brother Hundred. Well I’m going to stop you.”

Eleanor and Castillon went to draw their blades but Isabela stopped them, instead holding out her hands in front of her, telling Barris to hear her out.

“Barris,” Isabela said carefully. “If you were listening to us, then you’d understand that what we’re doing is right. Brother Hundred doesn’t care about you Templars, he’s happy to get plenty of you killed. He just wants to kill thousands of Chasind and Templars in order to summon a demon. He’s everything you despise, Barris. Come with us. Help us.”

“Don’t act like you care,” Barris said, his voice and sword arm wavering. “You... you’re only in this for the gold. You only want your treasure, your loot. You’re not Grey Wardens. You’re nothing but a band of thieving, murdering pirates.”

Isabela heard Eleanor flex her fingers, preparing a spell, but Isabela gestured at her to stop.

“Barris,” Isabela said, stepping forward. She gently laid a hand on Barris’ arm and pushed down his sword so it pointed downward, and the Templar’s shoulders slumped as he sighed and sheathed his sword.

“I won’t try and stop you,” Barris said finally. “But I can’t bring myself to fight against Templars with you on the field of battle. I’ll leave Ostagar and send word to the Templar reinforcements we have coming in from all across Thedas. I’ll convince them that the battle is lost or abandoned, make them turn away. Never contact me again.”

And with that, Barris simply turned away and walked off.

***

“They’ve been too long. They’re not coming. We need to go.”

Budwin sat by the stream outside the Chasind keep, Senn and Tonbar by his side. He shook his head as Senn gestured for them to leave.

“They’re coming. They just need a little longer. That’s all.”

Budwin waited and waited, watching the water course through the stream, fraught with worry. Crossing blades with Eleanor had been heartbreaking. But if she and Isabela came round... it would all be worth it.

“Something up ahead,” Tonbar whispered, drawing his war hammer cautiously. There was a rustling in the bushes and Isabela, Eleanor and Castillon emerged. Budwin felt a wave of sheer relief pass over him.

“Maker, Budwin,” Isabela said as she walked up to him. “Have we got a story for you.”


	10. The Last Crusade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabela, Castillon, Eleanor and Budwin have joined with the Chasind to stop the cultist Brother Hundred from wiping them out with his army of Templars in order to seize the grave of Maferath

Isabela surprised herself by embracing Budwin, smiling at him as she broke away.

“I gather you discovered Brother Hundred’s secret?” Budwin asked.

“He’s in a cult,” Isabela explained. “The Disciples of the Sacred Betrayer. They worship Maferath.”

“Andraste’s betrayer?” Budwin said, shocked. “So that grave... the body inside... is him? This...” Budwin shook his head. “This is incredible.”

“We should return to the keep,” Senn said, stepping forward and gesturing. “Templar scouts may discover us.”

“Well, Budwin,” Isabela said, looking over Senn’s toned and muscular form. “You haven’t introduced me to your friend...”

“My name is Senn,” Senn introduced himself. “And this,” he gestured to Tonbar. “Is my bodyguard, Tonbar. It is good to meet a friend of the long-ear.”

“And it’s good to meet you...” Isabela said. She walked up to Senn and put her arm around his waist. “So, it’s probably best we head back to your camp...”

Isabela and Senn left for the camp, Senn looking baffled, with Tonbar and Castillon following behind him. All that was left was Eleanor, Budwin and the sound of the running stream.

“I thought you were dead,” Eleanor said finally. “I thought that after all these years I’d lost you. My best friend.”

“Well,” Budwin said, smiling awkwardly. “I’m alive.”

“Yes,” Eleanor said, smiling warmly. “And you’d better damn well stay that way, elf.”

“Same to you, human,” Budwin laughed.

“That’s _Senior Warden_ Human to you, Ensign,” Eleanor replied. “Let’s go meet your new friends.”

***

Isabela, Castillon, Eleanor, Budwin, Senn and Tonbar crept into the keep at the dead of night, the only sound around being their footsteps on the twig-covered ground. Senn gestured to the large hut in the middle.

“My father’s throne room,” he explained quietly. “We can introduce him to you there and explain the situation.”

Isabela nodded at him and gestured for the group to move towards the hut. They crept through the camp silently, so as not to awake any highly-strung guards. Isabela, Castillon and Eleanor had fought two battles with the Templar army. Eleanor had been on the front lines for both. They didn’t fancy the odds of being taken for enemy spies.

“Wait,” Eleanor whispered. “I sense something. It feels like-”

Before she could finish the entire group felt a horrific pain course through their bodies, making their joints seize up and their bones feel like they were on the brink of splintering as, one by one, the group found themselves resorting to curling up on the floor in an attempt to resist the pain.

“Force... magic...!” Eleanor hissed through the pain. “Don’t... struggle... just... resist!”

Through tear-filled eyes, Isabela could see the torches around the camp light up to reveal dozens of Chasind emerging from their tents and huts to stand before them. A woman, heavily pregnant, with ebony hair and swirling black tattoos was at their lead, her hand coursing with blue energy. From her neck, Isabela noticed with shock, was The Architect’s Seal.

“So, Senn,” Magdalena declared in front of the crowd. “You betray us at last. This?” Magdalena cried to the crowd. “This is the man you would have as your next Chieftain? A traitor, conspiring to sneak our enemies into our home and murder us. I say we execute these traitors!”

The crowd whooped and cheered and Isabela felt the already colossal pressure on her almost double. It was like a mountain was bearing down upon her. Though her vision was hazed she could make out a huge man in a crown of bone emerge from the largest hut.

“Magdalena!” Chieftain Kredoc boomed. “What is the meaning of this? What are you doing?”

“Executing traitors, father,” Magdalena hissed, not even looking at the Chieftain. “Your own son, an enemy. A ‘Templar’. He should be ashamed of himself, and so should you. Maybe once I am Chieftain things will change!”

“You... are not... Chieftain... yet...” Senn hissed. “You... will never... be Chieftain...”

Isabela’s world began to go grey as her vision began to fade, her senses began to dull. She was barely aware of small sounds, shouting, arguments and-

“NO!”

There was a huge, earth-shaking crack that sounded like a thousand claps of thunder, and Isabela felt the force magic spell violently thrown away from her. As her senses returned to her she saw Eleanor standing there, a light blue energy coursing all over her body, so much so that even her eyes and veins were glowing. Magdalena was hovering, a hundred feet above the awestruck Chasind, kicking and screaming in protest.

“Shaman!” a voice from the Chasind crowd cried. “She Shaman! She use great magic!”

“LET ME DOWN!” Magdalena screamed. “FATHER! BROTHER! ANYONE! DO SOMETHING!”

Eleanor stood there, a vision of magical fury, until she finally grew calm and the light faded and Magdalena floated softly down to the ground, landing on her feet. Eleanor stormed up to her, drew her greatsword and held the blade aggressively to Magdalena’s throat.

“I don’t know who you are,” Eleanor fumed. “But if it wasn’t for that baby inside of you you’d be nothing but paste, understand me?”

Magdalena nodded, shaking, and Eleanor brought down her blade and sheathed it.

“Good,” Eleanor barked at her. “Now go. All of you. We are speaking to your Chieftain.”

Magdalena froze for a second, looking back at the crowd of her supporters, before turning tail and running off back to her hut. A second later the other Chasind did the same.

Isabela pulled herself up, dusted herself off and walked up to the only remaining member of the crowd: Chieftain Kredoc. She stuck out her hand and flashed him a smile.

“Captain Isabela, of The Wicked Grace,” she introduced herself. “I think we have a battle to win.”

***

They all stood around a war table in the middle of Chieftain Kredoc’s throne room. Isabela, Castillon, Eleanor, Budwin, Senn, Tonbar, Magdalena and Kredoc himself. The Templars had suffered a blow after the last two battles and the defections of Barris and the Wicked Grace crew. Apparently the Chasind scouts had seen no sign of an army of Templar reinforcements. It would seem that Barris had made good on his word.

“Our plan is force,” Chieftain Kredoc explained. “Our two Shamans will take the front line and hit their defensive walls with everything they have,” he nodded at Eleanor and a scowling Magdalena. “Once they have damaged the fortress enough our warriors will hit them with everything we’ve got.”

Isabela looked over the plans sceptically. “I’m no war leader; I’m not even a warrior. But this plan is... too aggressive. Do you have enough men for this? Most will be killed.”

“It is our way,” Kredoc said simply. “If an ambush is not possible, we strike at our enemies with brute force until they are killed. It has served our people for hundreds of years.”

“Yes,” Isabela said. “But you’ve faced few threats like this, and none that you’ve come out of victoriously.” She pointed at the small stream on the map. “The Templars don’t yet know that Castillon and I have defected. You need Eleanor and Budwin has been seen fighting alongside you, but Castillon and I could sneak back into Ostagar and sabotage it for your battle. Start a fire, set off any explosives we find, and if anyone sees us they may not suspect us until we’ve done some damage.”

Castillon gritted his teeth at the idea of being volunteered for a sabotage mission, but Kredoc nodded in consideration. Senn looked at Isabela with glowing respect, while Magdalena seethed and was clearly waiting to say something about betrayal.

“Very well,” Kredoc said. “We shall take the sounds of your sabotage as our signal. Go now. We attack tonight. Be ready.”

***

Brother Hundred sat cross-legged on the floor of his tent, inhaling the incense with the deepest of breaths. It filled his lungs and purified his soul, allowing him better to understand the words of The Maker and his Prophets, Andraste and Maferath. Father Seth had tasked him above all the other Disciples with this holy calling, and he would not disappoint. It would be as Father Seth had told him: his divine army would conquer the heathen lands and release the soul of the Prophet Maferath, bringing light to all those around.

Hundred smiled as he thought of the glory Maferath would bring, rising from the ashes of the heathen Chasind, all thanks to him and Father Seth, their glorious leader. Hundred took in another deep breath of incense and recalled a hymn Father Seth had taught them.

_Deep is the abyss_

_My footsteps are made of reed_

_But we do not choose, my son_

_Where our footsteps lead_

_Long is the road_

_Grey is the sky_

_Deep is my heart_

_Broken and dry_

 

Hundred sighed peacefully. Soon, the Chasind army would be annihilated. Soon, Maferath’s Will would be done. Soon, all would be well. Just like Father Seth had told him.

***

Isabela and Castillon made their way through Ostagar, nodding at the Templar troops as they went. In passing, Isabela heard a conversation about there being no sign of any of their reinforcements, and another about the disappearance of Ser Barris. Good. She’d also heard a story about Knight-Captain Cedric drinking an entire keg of mead, climbing to the top of The Tower of Ishard and proclaiming himself the new Knight-Divine. Also good.

“This is ridiculous,” Castillon whispered. “We should have just grabbed The Architect’s Seal from that mage bitch’s neck and ran. You’re getting us involved in a war, more so than before. Have you lost all sense? Is there truly nothing of the old Isabela left? This expedition has been about gold, it always has been, and it always will be.”

Isabela clenched her teeth and stopped, turning to glare at Castillon sternly and jut her finger out at him.

“I’m becoming damn sick of your complaining, Castillon,” Isabela hissed. “This whole voyage all I’ve had from you is criticism and sour looks. Have you done anything with your life after your slaving business went under? Have you done anything to help any of this during this expedition? Have you done anything that would mean that if I didn’t HAVE to bring you along I still would have? No. So cut it, and make yourself useful.”

Castillon stood there, staring at Isabela with venom, and then contentment, and then simply a blank disappointment.

“Isabela...” Castillon muttered, shaking his head. “I used to be able to read you like a book. Now you’re a new woman. A stranger to me.”

“I’ve changed,” Isabela said. “Maybe it would do you some good.”

Isabela turned heel and headed off through Ostagar, Castillon reluctantly catching up.

“Where are we even going?” Castillon whispered. “What is there to sabotage here?”

“The whole time we were here you couldn’t stop drinking,” Isabela said. “I saw a few kegs around for planned celebrations but none of the bottles of whatever stinking liquid you were drinking. Where did you get it? What even was it?”

“I found a stash in the Quartermaster’s stores while I was looking for something to steal,” Castillon admitted. “It’s called Anders Whiskey, strongest stuff you can get your hands on in Thedas, brewed in The Anderfels. The Quartermaster must have some pretty decent smuggling links. In fact I know he does. Percival Cain is the only man who moves that out of The Anderfels in all of Thedas.”

“The strongest known alcohol in Thedas...” Isabela mused. “Yes. That will do.”

“For what?” Castillon replied.

“We’re going to steal it all,” Isabela explained. “And then we’re going to burn down this camp. Use it to light a huge great fire in the middle of the barracks.”

“And how do you plan to avoid detection?” Castillon drawled.

Isabela smiled. “I have a plan.”

***

“CHASIND!” Isabela screamed as she ran into the Templar barracks, covered in blood. “THEY FOUND A WAY IN! THEY’RE ATTACKING!”

The Templars in the barracks immediately threw down their books and bottles and picked up their swords and shields, charging off in the random direction she was pointing.

“Isabela!” Knight-Captain Cedric gasped as he ran up to the bloodstained pirate. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Isabela said weakly. “At least I will be when I get patched up. Knight-Captain, you should go. Lead your men in the battle. You’d... you’d be a hero.”

“A hero...” Knight-Captain Cedric’s eyes glazed over. “Very well!” And with that, Cedric charged off into the imaginary fray.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Castillon muttered as he snuck around the corner, a crate of Anders Whiskey in his arms. He looked at it sadly. “Waste of bloody good... nevermind.”

Isabela wrapped a bandage around the cut on her palm she’d used to cover herself in blood, then she and Castillon set about pouring the whiskey all over the tents, weapon stockpiles and food supplies. The open fire in the middle of the barracks meant there was no need to light up, and Isabela stuck a stick from the ground into the flames.

“I’ve kept the alcohol away from this fire,” Isabela said nervously as Castillon stood next to her. “But as soon as I throw this torch it’ll light the fumes. Get ready to run, this fire could spread across the whole of Ostagar.”

Isabela took a deep breath, closed her eyes and tossed the torch.

It was like stepping into the sun.

The flames lit the fumes from the whiskey in seconds, spreading across the whole of the barracks. Isabela could barely see, all around her was just flames.

“Castillon!” Isabela cried. But he was gone, he’d run off. He could be dead.

Isabela held her arm in front of her face and dashed through the flames, coughing as the smoke billowed all around her. She couldn’t see the exit, couldn’t see any way out, couldn’t see her own hand in front of her face.

But just in time she saw the sword that was about to take her head.

Isabela ducked as the blade passed through the air, missing her by a hairs breadth, and she drew her kukris to parry a second blow. She saw the helmeted Templar standing before her, armour blackened with soot.

“What did you do?” the Templar cried. “Why? You’ve damned us all!”

Isabela pushed back but the Templar was stronger than her and managed to shove outwards, sending Isabela stumbling backwards. He raised his blade, preparing to strike out and impale her and-

The Templar gasped as a thin-bladed longsword was plunged into his back and burst from his chest, piercing his heart and killing him instantly. As the blade was withdrawn and the corpse slumped to the ground, Isabela saw Castillon sheath his blade.

“Come on,” Castillon gestured. “We need to get out of here!”

And so the pirate and the slaver ran through the flames that ravaged Ostagar and away from the sounds of burning and screaming. But the battle had only just begun.

***

Brother Hundred ran out of his tent and stared in horror at the flames that had consumed the barracks. His army was in chaos, running around trying to stop the blaze from spreading.

“No...” Hundred said, aghast. “No no no no no no no!”

Hundred dashed over to the battlements to look over them. It was as he had suspected: a huge Chasind army forming in the valley below, ready to charge on Ostagar and seize it. And, at the head of that army, a glint of silver.

The Grey Wardens.

“Those bastards!” Hundred screamed. “Cedric! Cedric!”

Knight-Captain Cedric, hearing the cries, dashed over, his face covered in sweat and soot. He paled as he saw the amassing army.

“Gather the men,” Hundred hissed. “Everyone we have. Every last Templar in this fortress. This is it. We destroy them, or they destroy us.”

***

The battle had begun.

Eleanor and Magdalena splayed out their hands and sent balls of fire, bolts of lightning and beams of energy at the ancient fortress of Ostagar, each magical attack striking the Templar’s holdings and causing devastation, dividing the Templar response as they panicked over whether to deal with the magical bombardment or Isabela’s fire. The barrage continued until the two mage women were almost ready to collapse with exhaustion, at which point Senn gave out a battle cry and the Chasind army charged.

The Templar army that had been sent out to meet them was considerably smaller, but were better armoured and equipped than the Chasind. As Tonbar, war hammer in hand, tore his way through the Templar army he realised that this would be a far more even fight that they’d expected.

“Fight well, my holy legion!” a voice cried from atop the battlements. “Slay the heathen army and bring light to these lands! Fight!”

As Tonbar looked up from crushing a Templar’s skull with his hammer he saw a man in white and red robes standing on the exposed battlements, fist in the air as he made his speech to the Templar army. Outsider leaders, Tonbar thought absent-mindedly as he caved in a Templar skull. All words, never leading by example.

“Brother Hundred,” the long-ear, Budwin, hissed as he cut down a Templar that was about to stab Tonbar. “He’s behind all this. We have to stop him!”

Tonbar was about to respond before being cut off by a squad of Templars that charged into the main Chasind body. Soon, Budwin was swallowed into the fray while Tonbar ran from it, looking for a place on the battlefield with more room to swing his hammer.

“Tonbar!” Senn cried as he saw his friend. “How are you doing?” Senn was fending off a pair of Templars with his pike, adversaries which Tonbar dispatched with a swing of his hammer.

“The Templar resistance is too strong!” Tonbar yelled. “We must crush them before they get the fire under control, or they could start pushing back!”

Senn was about to reply, but was distracted when an older Templar with close-cropped silver hair, a neatly-trimmed beard and whiskers dived in front of him and lashed out with his blade. The blade left a shallow cut on Senn’s torso and the Chasind warrior deflected another with his pike. Tonbar rushed over to help but a second Templar attacked him, engaging him in a fierce, unwieldy duel as Tonbar struggled to find room to swing his hammer.

“Wilder dog!” the silver-haired Templar said as he made his vicious assault against Senn, an assault that Senn could only hope to block as he wrestled with the pike, trying to get into a position where he could use his blade. “Holy blood is on your hands!” the Templar continued. “Your death will be retribution! Never forget that you were slain by Knight-Captain Cedric!”

Senn gritted his teeth as he blocked another vicious blow from Knight-Captain Cedric, his pike handle taking the full brunt of the attack. Seeing an opportunity, Senn spun his pike and attempted to strike Knight-Captain Cedric in the leg to trip him. However, the blow was inaccurate and the pike’s end merely struck Cedric on his armoured hip. The Templar saw an opening and took it, lunging forward and running Senn through with his blade.

“Senn!” Tonbar cried as he jutted out with his hammer’s pommel and struck his own Templar opponent in the temple, knocking him out. As Knight-Captain Cedric withdrew his blade and Senn collapsed to the ground, his pike clattering to the floor, Tonbar charged at the Knight-Captain with his hammer raised and his teeth bared. Knight-Captain Cedric turned at the last second to see the furious Chasind but not in time to stop Tonbar’s hammer from striking him right in the chest with the full force of the swing. Cedric howled as his breastplate shattered into a thousand places, his ribs snapped and he was flung backwards, hitting the ground with a hard thud and a clatter.

“My ribs...” Cedric moaned, clutching his wounded and bloody chest. “Sweet Maker, I think you broke half of them.”

Tonbar stormed forward to finish the Knight-Captain off but Cedric grabbed his sword from the ground and threw it at Tonbar. It was a clumsy throw but Tonbar still had to duck to avoid it, and by the time he’d gotten up again Knight-Captain Cedric had already scrambled up and fled the battlefield, clutching his chest with tears streaming down his face.

“Tonbar...”

Tonbar ran over to Senn, holding his dying friend in his arms.

“Senn...” Tonbar said, his heart sinking as he saw the paleness of his friend’s skin and the light in his eyes fading. “I’m sorry... I failed you. I’m meant to protect you, I’m your bodyguard, I... I failed you.”

“No, brother,” Senn said sadly, looking up at Tonbar as the world began to fade around him. “You fought well, brave warrior. I... I’m proud of you.”

And with that, Senn slowly closed his eyes and died.

“Foldræst nú, þrymma beorn,” Tonbar said with a heavy heart as he laid his friend’s body down upon the battlefield. “Sé beadu sy ofer.”

“Hold them back!” Brother Hundred screeched from atop the battlements. “Do not let them breach this holiest of most holy fortresses! Defend it with your lives!”

Tonbar found himself staring up at the screeching brother with unbridled hatred and fury. This was his fault. All of it. Every Chasind brother that had died in these past few days had been murdered by him. Their blood was on his hands.

His rage consuming him, Tonbar threw down his hammer and grabbed Senn’s pike from the ground. He ran across the battlefield at full pelt, the pike held above his head in his muscular arm, and as soon as he was within distance he hurled in as hard and as far as he could. The pike sailed through the air, all across the battlefield, right up to the fortress of Ostagar where it pierced straight through Brother Hundred’s chest and sent him flying backwards into the fortress. Brother Hundred’s corpse landed right in the middle of the courtyard, the pike buried in his chest and a final expression of shock on his face.

***

It hadn’t taken long for Ostagar to fall.

With Brother Hundred dead and Knight-Captain Cedric deserting the Templar forces had lost all their leaders, meaning the efforts to combat both the fire and the Chasind forces had crumbled. Within a few minutes the Chasind had spilled into Ostagar and begun the massacre of the Templar forces. Now there were none left, and the new occupiers of Ostagar sat before their chieftain.

Magdalena sat on a huge, grand but slightly singed armchair that one of the Chasind had managed to salvage from Knight-Captain Cedric’s tent, a crown of bone upon her head and The Architect’s Seal around her neck. Across the courtyard two funeral pyres were being prepared. One was for Senn’s body. The other was for Chieftain Kredoc.

“It is with great sadness I inform you of the deaths of both my father and my brother,” Magdalena said to the crowd of Chasind warriors. “As many of you saw, my brother fell nobly in battle against the Templar leader. His sacrifice in battle shall inspire our warriors for generations. However, it would appear that while we were doing battle, Templar assassins snuck past us into our keep and murdered my father, your former Chieftain. So it falls to me to lead this tribe, and my unborn child shall rule after I am gone. But now, my people, rejoice, for we are victorious!”

Isabela, Castillon, Eleanor, Budwin and Tonbar stood by a ruined pillar, watching Magdalena crow and the Chasind celebrate. It was no mystery who had really killed Chieftain Kredoc, but it didn’t matter to them. The battle was over. Tonbar had lost his charge. But the others had gained their prize.

Isabela waltzed over to Chieftain Magdalena, flashing the new Chasind leader her most charming of smiles. Magdalena looked less than enthusiastic.

“Captain Isabela,” Magdalena said reluctantly, leaning back on her throne. “Thank you for your aid in the battle, and the aid of your allies. Now, may I ask what you want?”

“My friends and I didn’t put our lives on the line for our health,” Isabela said. “We came here for something. A prize. We want it.” She nodded to The Architect’s Seal around Magdalena’s neck. The Chieftain held up the key, looking at it sadly, and then took it off from around her neck and tossed it to Isabela

“A shame,” Magdalena said disappointedly. “I liked how it looked. Nevermind. It is yours now, as is my thanks. Farewell, outsider. I hope that trinket was worth all this.” And, with nothing more than a dismissive wave, Magdalena sent her away.

Isabela held The Architect’s Seal in her hand with awe, her fingers caressing every fine detail. She took Percival Cain’s sketch from her pocket and held it next to the precious key. It was The Architect’s Seal, no doubt about it.

“Incredible,” Castillon said as Isabela came over. “After all this time... all the treasure we could ever hope for.”

“Well,” Isabela said, not quite believing it. “I guess this is it. Back to the ship.” She looked at Eleanor, Budwin and even Castillon with a smile. “It’s time to get our treasure.”

“Wait!” Tonbar said as the group was about to leave. “Take me with you.”

“What?” Isabela said, her eyebrow raised sceptically. “You? A Chasind? Join my crew? Have you ever even seen an ocean before?”

“No,” Tonbar admitted. “But I have no place here. Senn is dead. Chieftain Magdalena would never accept me. You are a good woman, Captain Isabela, and you travel with good people. With your permission I would join your crew and seek this treasure with you. Are you in need of a bodyguard?”

Isabela faltered. She thought of Grideon. She thought of how vulnerable she’d felt without him by her side. Then she thought about the idea of replacing him. It seemed so wrong but... was it really such a bad idea?

“Very well, Tonbar,” Captain Isabela said. “Welcome aboard The Wicked Grace.”

And so Isabela, Castillon, Eleanor, Budwin and Tonbar, crewmembers of The Wicked Grace, left Ostagar with their prize on the final steps of their journey.


	11. Honour Amongst Thieves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabela has secured The Architect's Seal. At long last she can return to Shipwreck's Rest with the others to meet with Percival Cain and claim her treasure

Isabela almost shed a tear when she set eyes upon The Wicked Grace, sitting there tall and proud at dock in Denerim’s port. Tonbar’s jaw had almost hit the floor, not just at the ship but at Denerim as a whole. She was glad she’d brought him, and she was even gladder to be back with her ship. After all this time, she was home again.

“WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?”

Isabela stumbled back as a deranged, wild-eyed elf with white skin and hair charged up to her and shoved a finger in her face, breathing heavily and rapidly like a panting dog.

“What in the Maker’s name...” Isabela shook her head. “Who the hell are... oh Maker. Plecker? Is that you?”

Plecker stood there for the longest time, quivering, his wide and fishy eyes staring at her in seething disbelief. And then he snapped.

“YOU’VE BEEN GONE FOR WEEKS!” Plecker screamed, turning the gazes of half of the port. “WEEKS! AND YOU LEFT US WITH ENOUGH PROVISIONS FOR ONE! AND ONLY ABOUT TEN SOVEREIGNS TO WORK WITH! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I’VE HAD TO DO TO KEEP UP THE PRETENSE AND PREVENT A MUTINY? I’VE MUGGED PEOPLE! I’VE LEAD THE CREW AS A GANG TO RAID SUPPLIES! WE ROBBED A BANK! A **_BANK_** , ISABELA! HALF THE MEN GOT ARRESTED AND WOULD HAVE BEEN BEHEADED IF I HADN’T BROKEN THEM OUT! WEEKS! WHERE! THE! FUCK! WERE! YOU?”

Plecker then doubled over and began gasping for breath, Eleanor and Budwin having to point out their Warden armour to allay the attention of the entire seafaring population of Denerim, as well as a few guards who seemed extremely interested in what Plecker was admitting to. Castillon seemed like he was about to collapse laughing. Finally, Plecker pulled himself up and looked in a defeated way at his rather shocked captain.

“As you can see, ma’am...” Plecker said, composing himself. “Things have been... less than peaceful back at the ship... now, for the benefit of the men... would you mind informing me of where you were?”

“Ostagar,” Isabela said sheepishly. “There were... developments. And a battle. But we got the key.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out The Architect’s Seal. “See?”

Plecker barely batted an eyelid, instead focussing on regaining his breath. “I... good. Fantastic, ma’am. Shall we set sail? The crew are all aboard, we should be ready to leave in a few minutes.”

“I think that would be best,” Isabela said. “Castillon, Eleanor, Budwin, Tonbar, follow me.”

“Ton-who?” Plecker said, confused, before turning to come face to face with the solid, dreadlocked mass of tattooed muscle with a war hammer slung over his back.

“Greetings,” Tonbar nodded. “I am Tonbar, of the Chasind. I am to serve as Captain Isabela’s bodyguard.”

“Oh,” Plecker said weakly. “Oh. Of course you are. Please, come this way.”

***

Sea air. The waves lapping on the side of the ship. The shriek of gulls overhead. All so familiar. All the things that had set Isabela’s heart aflutter before. The same now, but with a tinge of sadness.

Isabela leant against the stern of the ship, holding The Architect’s Seal in her hand, noting how small and ugly it was. It seemed so odd, really. Such endeavour for such a tiny, unattractive little trinket. So absurd to believe that it opened a trove of treasure the likes of which she could only dream of.

“Odd, isn’t it, ma’am,” Plecker said, shaking his head as he leant next to Isabela. “After all this time. All this searching. It doesn’t feel real, does it?”

“It doesn’t,” Isabela admitted it. “But also it does, and... and that’s the problem.” She looked over onto the deck of the ship. Tonbar was showing the crew how many cannonballs he could lift. Eleanor and Budwin were playing cards with a group from the lower decks. Castillon, as ever, was keeping himself to him. “I think Tonbar will be here to stay, at least for now. And I suppose I’ll be glad to see the back of Castillon. But Eleanor and Budwin are my friends. I’ve fought with them, I’ve killed for them, I’ve laughed and smiled and worried and even mourned for them. I don’t want them to go. I want them to stay. Forever.” Isabela surprised herself as she felt a tear welling up. “I’m sick of losing people, Plecker. I want Hawke. I want Aveline. I want Varric and Merrill and Fenris. I want Grideon. I even want Anders, Sebastian and Carver. And I want Eleanor and Budwin to stay. I don’t want this adventure to be over.”

Plecker sighed and put his arm around Isabela, comforting her. “Captain, you love the adventure because you never know what will happen next. You love the ship because of where it can take you. You love the seas because they move. You’re not the person to set down roots, ma’am. You go with the tide. Change is part of your life, and it always will be.”

Isabela smiled at Plecker, looking back out at the ship. He was right, and she knew it. She just wished the crew could be a little more... constant. She was all for an exciting and fast-paced life, but in the end Castillon was right. The seven years in Kirkwall had changed her. She cared more about people than she ever had before. Isabela looked down at The Architect’s Seal and thought about how she’d toss it over the side if it meant having everyone she’d ever called a friend on her crew.

“If I may, ma’am,” Plecker continued. “You only _suppose_ you’ll be glad to see the back of Castillon?”

Isabela felt uneasy as she realised what she’d said. But it was true. She’d happily see Castillon off the ship but... he’d saved her life at Ostagar. He’d killed that Templar to save her. He could have just as easily let the Templar kill her, grab The Architect’s Seal and run back to Percival Cain to split the treasure two ways instead of three.

“Sorry, Plecker,” Isabela said, getting up and brushing past him. “There’s something I need to do.”

Isabela walked down onto the deck and stood by Castillon, who was leaning up against the portside of the ship. He didn’t look up as she approached.

“Yes?” Castillon said, still looking down. “Can I help you?”

“I want to know something,” Isabela said uncomfortably. “I... I want to know why.”

“Why I saved you?” Castillon said, humour in his voice. “I wanted to. Good enough?”

“I... yes,” Isabela said weakly. “I suppose... I suppose that is enough.”

Isabela turned and walked off into her cabin, not looking back at the smirking slaver, instead staring at The Architect’s Seal. Soon. Soon it would all be over.

***

Shipwreck’s Rest, at last.

Isabela stood tall and proud upon the bow of The Wicked Grace as the vessel glided into dock, catching the eye of many as she hopped from the ship and strutted across the jetty. She absent-mindedly noted The Unknown Tomorrow in its usual place across the dock. A few jetties down from there, Isabela spotted with a smirk, was The Songbird. She could just make out Cenred struggling with a knot. Judging by his ever-present tricorn hat his crew hadn’t ousted him as captain after his humiliation. At least not yet.

Heads turned all across the dock as Eleanor, Budwin, Plecker, Castillon and Tonbar disembarked to flank Isabela, the mismatched but fearsome group spreading mutters and whispers through the crowd as they walked along the path and towards the tavern.

“Captain Cain promised to meet us here,” Castillon muttered. “Let’s not alert half of the pirates in Thedas before meeting him, agreed?”

Isabela cockily brought her hat over her eyes in a mockingly weak attempt at concealment, waltzing up to the tavern door and taking hold of the handle.

“One last step on the journey,” Isabela said back to the group. “It’s been one hell of a ride.”

Isabela swung open the tavern door and stepped inside.

***

The tavern was dark, with candles scattered at key points to create the most theatrical light possible over Percival Cain. He stood in the centre of the room, his hat crooked upwards to show his full, handsome, yellow-eyed face. He stood with one hand coyly on his hip, and in the other he held a fine crystal glass of expensive cognac. He raised an eyebrow as Isabela, Plecker, Eleanor, Budwin, Castillon and Tonbar stepped into the room.

“My my, _Captain_ Isabela,” Percival Cain chuckled lightly. “Decided to make it an occasion for the whole crew, did we? Did you perchance spend the several weeks you’ve been gone collecting strays instead of hunting for my key?”

“There were... complications,” Isabela said uneasily. Something didn’t seem right. This wasn’t Cain’s usual theatre, his oh-so-mysterious act. This was more triumphant, more confrontational. He was placing himself in centre stage. And, Isabela noticed, the tavern was completely silent. There was no-one at the bar. All of the tables had been cleared from the centre of the tavern to make room for Cain’s ‘stage’, and all the patrons sat in the shadowed tables around the edges. And not only weren’t they drinking anything, but every last one of them had their hats angled over their faces.

“Oh, Captain Isabela,” Cain said taunting, slowly striding over towards her while swirling his cognac in his glass. He clearly wasn’t planning on drinking any, just using it as a prop. “One must learn to adjust to life’s little hurdles. Now, the key, if you please.”

Uneasy, but won over by Cain’s theatrical spell, Isabela reached into her pocket and took out The Architect’s Seal, placing it slowly into Percival Cain’s outstretched hand. As soon as he had the key, Cain turned sharply on his heel and walked off, making a dismissive wave behind him as he went.

“Kill them,” Cain said. “Kill them all.”

Within seconds every last ‘patron’ of the tavern had leapt to their feet and pulled a crossbow from under their tables, all pointing their deadly weapons at Isabela and the others.

“WAIT!” Isabela cried just before the crossbowmen could open fire. Cain stopped abruptly and turned his head slightly, one bright yellow eye staring at Isabela with intent from under the brim of his hat.

“Go on,” Cain said quietly as he turned around. “You have my attention.”

“We had a deal, Cain,” Isabela said carefully. “I get you the key, you give me the map, we split the treasure. Why screw me over? Your reputation will be ruined, even with all the treasure. Here in Shipwreck’s Rest, and out on the Eastern Seas, there’s a code. You break it, Cain, and you’re ruined.”

“Oh, Captain Isabela,” Cain said with a faint laugh. “So small. Just... so... small.” He shook his head in disappointment. “Treasure. Gold. Pirate codes. That’s really all you can think about, isn’t it? That is the limit of your ambitions.”

“What,” Isabela said nervously, looking at the crossbowmen. She and the rest of the group were frozen to the spot. “And you’re a big dreamer? You’re a two-bit intel broker and amateur pirate, _Captain_ Cain. Or is there something you haven’t told me?”

“The world is getting bigger, Captain Isabela,” Cain said, reached up and stroking Isabela’s chin softly. She shuddered, but dared not make any move larger. “There are a lot of blank edges on the map, lots of questions left unanswered. There has been more societal change in the past four decades than there has been in the past few centuries combined. The Blight. The Architect. The mages and Templars. The troubles brewing in the Orlesian court. One day it will all come crashing down, and from the ashes of the old order a new world, with new gods and kings, will rise. With the fortune and reputation I gain from this treasure I will secure myself a place in that future and win myself an empire.”

“Fantastic,” Isabela rolled her eyes. “A visionary.”

“You may mock,” Cain said. “But a dead woman cannot undermine my plans.”

“This woman’s not dying anytime soon,” Isabela said. “Eleanor, now!”

Eleanor burst forward and threw her arms out wide to send out a wave of magical energy and knock Cain’s men aside.

But it didn’t happen.

“Eleanor?” Isabela asked, and spun around to see Eleanor standing there, a look of faint surprise on her face as a trickle of blood ran from her mouth and down her chin. And then the thin cutlass that had been stuck through her was pulled out, and Castillon sheathed his weapon.

“CASTILLON!” Isabela screamed. “ELEANOR!” She drew a kukri and went to lung at Castillon but the crossbowmen all took aim at her and she froze in her tracks as Castillon sauntered over to Cain.

“Quartermaster Castillon,” Cain welcomed him with open arms. “Thank you so kindly for your service.”

“My pleasure, Captain Cain,” Castillon simpered.

“You bastard...” Isabela whispered, aghast. “You saved me... I thought you’d changed...”

“All part of the act, _Captain_ ,” Castillon said scathingly. “Didn’t you hear? Whole world’s a stage.”

Isabela was about to lunge out at him but felt herself shoved aside as a snarling blur of blue and silver leaped forwards. Hissing with fury, Budwin lunged at Percival Cain at the speed of a striking python, daggers outstretched. Isabela couldn’t even perceive what happened next. She didn’t even see Cain move but in the blink of an eye Budwin was down, blood pouring from his broken nose, Percival Cain’s sword at his throat.

Tonbar drew his hammer to charge at Cain and Plecker whipped his bow from his back and notched an arrow. Plecker opened fire at Cain but the information broker simply tossed his glass aside and dived under the arrow before springing up and back-flipping, his foot kicking out and striking Plecker in the jaw. As Plecker went down, Cain landed on his feet and struck Isabela hard on the head with the hilt of his sword. Isabela collapsed in a heap.

“NO!” Tonbar cried, swinging his hammer at Cain. Cain sidestepped it easily and lunged forwards with his blade, running Tonbar through. The Chasind warrior let out a moan as Cain twisted the blade and tore it out. Tonbar collapsed to the floor and Cain sheathed his sword while his men, lead by Castillon, walked over to him and stood by the door. Cain hadn’t even needed his people. He’d taken them all by himself.

“Sorry, Captain Isabela,” Cain said, holding up The Architect’s Seal and the map to the lab whole looking down at Isabela, who lay there clutching her head. “But maybe you just didn’t want it as much as I do. By the way, do you recognise my crew? You should do. There were yours, briefly. And before that, they were Castillon’s. Then you took his ship from him and fired them all. They consider this a fitting retribution. Goodbye, Captain Isabela.”

And with that, Cain simply left.

“Isabela!”

Isabela felt someone pull her up, and she felt a warm light wash over her. She felt the lump in her head from Cain’s strike disappear, and her head stopped swimming. As her vision cleared she saw who had helped her.

“Eleanor?” Isabela said, staring with amazement at the Grey Warden’s concerned face. “But... but you...”

“I’m a healer, remember?” Eleanor said, pointing at her wound. It had completely healed over, leaving only a bloodstain. “Now come on,” she said as she helped up Budwin and Plecker. “We need to get after them.”

“Wait!” Isabela said. She knelt down onto the tavern floor and looked at Tonbar, who lay there in a pool of his own blood.

Isabela knelt by Tonbar and, with great effort, lifted the Chasind partly off the ground to hold him in her arms. Tonbar stared into her eyes with his, and Isabela went weak as she saw how soft and desperate they were.

“Captain... Isabela...” Tonbar said as the life began to leave him. “I... failed... you. I was... to guard you. I was... to stop him. Just as I was to guard Senn. I... I’m sorry...”

And Tonbar took one last breath before dying in Isabela’s arms.

***

Isabela, Plecker, Budwin and Eleanor burst out of the tavern to see Cain, Castillon and their men heading for The Unknown Tomorrow.

“Cain!” Isabela cried. “Percival Cain! Stand and face me!”

“Oh Maker,” Cain sighed as he turned around. “I knew I should have killed every last one of you. Oh look,” he said, nodding at Eleanor. “The Grey Warden survived. I assume you large friend didn’t?”

“You’re going to regret that, you conniving little bastard,” Plecker said sadistically, stringing an arrow into his bow.

“Well, I suppose it would have been convenient to kill you all,” Cain said simply. “But then you wouldn’t get to see this.”

And, across the dock, as if on cue, The Wicked Grace exploded.

“NO!” Isabela said as the entire ship went up in flames, burning debris from the vessel raining down across the whole of Shipwreck’s Rest. All across the pirate island people were panicking, screaming, rushing to put out the flames lest they spread. As they panicked and ran, the people formed an impenetrably bustling crowd that immediately cut Isabela off from Cain and his men.

“I want you alive to spread word of my victory,” Cain called from the crowd. “But also want to ensure you don’t follow me. Goodbye now!”

“The whole crew...” Isabela sunk to her knees as Plecker ran to catch her. “The ship. They... they’re all gone.”

Isabela felt her head go light and, as her world twisted and blurred and went dark, the floor rushed up to meet her.

***

Isabela awoke, pulling herself up. She was on the floor by the harbourmaster’s office, a few feet from where she’d passed out. Plecker, Budwin and Eleanor were looking over her.

“Ma’am?” Plecker said, concerned. “Are you there?”

“Plecker...” Isabela said dizzily. “What happened?”

“You passed out, ma’am,” Plecker told her. “A couple of minutes ago, after the ship exploded. Cain paid the harbourmaster to sneak barrels of gunpowder aboard after we docked, then sent one of his men in to light the fuse. The ship is destroyed, ma’am,” he said with a croak. “All the crew are dead, and The Unknown Tomorrow has set sail. Cain is long gone, ma’am, with the map and key both. The lab is his. Even with a ship we couldn’t catch him. I’m sorry, ma’am.”

Isabela pulled herself up and stumbled, gripping onto the wall. They’d betrayed them. Percival Cain, Castillon, they’d betrayed them all. Cain had murdered Tonbar, as well as the rest of the crew. What he’d done had meant that she’d lost Grideon for nothing.

“I’m sorry, Isabela,” Budwin said, trying to make her feel better. “I... I’m sorry.”

“I want him dead,” Isabela croaked. “I want Percival Cain dead. And Castillon. I want revenge. I want my treasure. I want my ship back.”

Isabela looked out at Shipwreck’s Rest in despair. The burnt wreckage of The Wicked Grace still sat in the harbour, smoking and crackling, and its debris was still scattered all over the place. Some of the pirates were still trying to make sense of it all, some were even preparing to leave. But most were ignoring it. This was merely an above-average crime on the island of murderers and thieves. Isabela felt a lump in her throat when she saw a black speck heading off into the distance. The Unknown Tomorrow. It had to be. Plecker was right, they’d never catch it, even if they had a ship. Only if it was the fastest ship in the world.

Wait.

“Maker...” Isabela whispered. “I’ve got it.”

“Ma’am?” Plecker asked. “What is it?”

Isabela ignored him, she simply leapt into action and charged off into Shipwreck’s Rest while yelling at the top of her lungs.

“CENRED!” Isabela cried. “CENRED! WHERE ARE YOU?”

Isabela spotted him just across the dock, he and his crew desperately prepping The Songbird to leave. Perfect.

“Cenred!” Isabela cried as she saw him, running towards him as fast as she could. “Cenred! Thank the Maker you’re here!”

“Ohsweetmakerpleasedonthurtme!” Cenred gasped as Isabela ran up to him and grabbed him in a huge embrace, yanking him off his feet.

“Cenred, oh Cenred!” Isabela cried putting him down. Then, as Plecker, Eleanor and Budwin ran up to them, she turned serious and pulled out her kukri, holding it under the terrified captain’s chin as his crew looked on.

“I didn’t have anything to do with it I don’t know Cain or Castillon I’m sorry I promise!” Cenred babbled.

“Shut up,” Isabela said sharply. “You owe me a favour, correct?” Cenred nodded weakly. “Glad we’re on the same page. I need a lift. You’re letting me and my remaining crew on your ship, and you’re chasing after The Unknown Tomorrow. We’re following Percival Cain all the way to The Architect’s Lab, then we’re gutting him and sticking Castillon’s head on a spike.”

“I... ok!” Cenred said, sweating profusely. “Men! Prepare to set sail. We... we’re following that ship!”

As Cenred ran aboard The Songbird to take the helm, Isabela, Plecker, Budwin and Eleanor leapt aboard. Within seconds the sails were unfurled, the anchor was lifted and The Songbird turned to sail out of Shipwreck’s Rest and after The Unknown Tomorrow.

“Come on, Captain Cenred,” Isabela said boldly. “It’s time to get my treasure.”


	12. Salt in the Wound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival Cain has betrayed Isabela, murdered Tonbar, blown up The Wicked Grace and made off with The Architect's Seal. After commandeering The Songbird, Isabela and her remaining crew make one last voyage together in pursuit of Cain and the traitor Castillon to The Architect's Lab

Percival Cain stood upon the stern of The Unknown Tomorrow, staring through his spyglass at the ship that was following them. There was no mistaking the red bicorn hat on that figure at the bow. Isabela.

“Well all credit to her,” Cain muttered. “I can’t help but respect resourcefulness.”

Cain tucked his spyglass away and turned his head slightly to see Castillon, who was hovering ominously around Cain’s back. Not for the first time today, Percival Cain regretted not killing someone.

It had taken all of the persuasion, all of the theatrical ability, all the flattery that he had to convince Castillon and his crew to join in with his plan. Cain had taken a disliking to Castillon from the start. An ugly, run-of-the-mill, talentless slave trader driven purely by empty dreams of gold. Cain had been forced into a precarious balancing act as he strove to maintain Castillon’s loyalty, keep the men under control and still fulfil his own plan. He’d only agreed to send a third party after The Architect’s Seal so Castillon couldn’t stab him in the back and take the map and key away from him. Castillon’s betrayal of him was inevitable, which was why Cain had to kill him first. However, it seemed the appearance of Isabela had distracted Castillon for the moment.

“Turn the ship around and prepare to fight,” Castillon said viciously. “We will sink that vile hag and all the wretches who follow her, and she will rue the day she named herself captain of MY ship.”

“Yes, yes, very good,” Cain said dismissively. “But that ship is... impossibly fast...” Cain smiled slightly. The things a ship like that could do for him...

Cain brushed past Castillon and strode over to the bow of the ship, standing over the deck with the map and key in his hands. He gestured to his crew, catching their attention, and began the show.

“Gentlemen!” Cain cried. “Our destination is not far off, and I believe our pursuers intend to follow us there. We shall disembark upon landing at the island, and then we shall do battle!” Cain punched the air, his few words and simple gestures inspiring a confidence in the men that soon saw them whooping and cheering and drawing their weapons. Cain shot a smile Castillon’s way. The slaver looked ready. His hunger for revenge was palpable.

“Very well, men!” Cain continued. “Prepare your blades! We shall do battle for the greatest fortune Thedas has ever seen!”

Cain gave the crowd one last smile before slipping away to his cabin. The battle would be no problem, as judging by the size of Isabela’s new ship his crew outnumbered hers two to one, and Cain’s own gifts for duelling would greatly contribute. After Isabela and her men were dead Cain would kill Castillon. Then he would kill all of Castillon’s most loyal men. Then he would kill any men clever or stupid enough to challenge his rule. Then, with the skeleton crew that remained, he’d take this fast new ship of Isabela’s along with the treasure and live like a king. Then, someone down the line, actually be a king. Or maybe an emperor. Only time would tell.

***

Slowly, The Unknown Tomorrow veered off its prior straight course and drifted into land on a large and unremarkable island covered in grassland and jungle.

“Cain is preparing to weigh anchor!” Cenred screamed as he ran around the ship. “What do we do? What do we do?”

Isabela sighed as Cenred panicked and flapped around his ship, wondering how he ever became captain. She couldn’t deny her own excitement, however. If Cain had landed on that island it could only mean one thing: The Architect’s Lab was there. That, or he was planning on making a last stand.

“If you were Percival Cain,” Plecker said, appearing at Isabela’s side. “What would you be doing?”

“A double cross,” Isabela said. “Land The Unknown Tomorrow on that island, a random island, and then when my pursuers disembarked The Songbird to go after me I’d double back, take The Songbird and sail off to the real treasure.”

“Nevertheless,” Plecker said. “Percival Cain is on that island with both the map and the key. We may not have a choice. And Cain and his men could take us easily in terms of numbers. Perhaps he plans to leave his men to cover him while he goes for the treasure, and once we are all dead he and the looted secrets will sail off into the sunset.”

“Perhaps...” Isabela mused. “Both plans present a risk for him, and Cain doesn’t strike me as a man who leaves anything to chance...” Something wasn’t right. Cain had to be planned something. He had to have some sort of advantage. “Well,” Isabela muttered. “I guess we’ll just have to find out. Cenred!” she cried. “Prepare to land on that island. Percival Cain dies today!”

As the crew of The Unknown Tomorrow ran off onto the island The Songbird glided seamlessly into place by the island, weighing anchor as the crew prepared their weapons. Isabela leant against the ship’s wheel and addressed the crew, flanked by Plecker. Cenred tried to shove his way in front of her but Budwin and Eleanor stepped in front of him.

“On my order,” Isabela said. “You storm the island and kill as many of Cain’s men as you can. Plecker, you’ll be in command, with Eleanor and Budwin as your lieutenants. Oh, and Cenred I suppose. I imagine either Cain or Castillon will break off from the main battle to go and find the lab. When that happens, I’ll pursue.”

The crew murmured in positive response, and soon there were swords raised and victorious cheers and the name ‘Captain Isabela’ being chanted at the tops of their voices.

“I’m the captain...” Cenred said weakly, but no-one acknowledged him. “Wave a little treasure under their noses...”

Isabela leapt from The Songbird, Plecker and the crew follower her as she ran from the beach and towards the main island in pursuit of Cain.

“Ma’am,” Plecker said as he ran over a rise beside Isabela, notching an arrow into his bow. “I just want to say, before we charge off into battle and possibly die, that it has been the greatest honour to serve under you.”

“And it’s been a damn honour having you as my Quartermaster,” Isabela replied. “Even if we don’t have a ship anymore.”

“And yet here we are, risking life and limb all for blood and gold,” Plecker said with a grin. “It’s a pirate’s life for us, ma’am.”

Isabela and the crew appeared over the rise to see Cain, Castillon and the crew of The Unknown Tomorrow making their way across the island along a strip of grassland between two separate walls of thick jungle. Hearing their approach, Cain whistled for them to stop, turn and draw their weapons. Castillon sneered upon seeing Isabela and pointed his sword at her.

“Percival Cain,” Isabela said, taking a step forward from the gang of murderers and thieves behind her and towards the murdering thieves who stood before her. “Castillon. Here at last. It is here, isn’t it? The Architect’s Lab.”

“It is,” Cain confirmed with a simple nod. “I couldn’t deny the poetry of it. The great Captain Isabela, cut down on the doorstep of the greatest treasure trove known to man, lamenting with her final breath that she dedicated her life to the pursuit of wealth.”

“Perhaps,” Isabela said, gesturing to those behind her. Plecker, Budwin and Eleanor came to stand by her. “Or maybe they’ll tell the story of the traitor Percival Cain and his minion Castillon, whose heads were torn off and stuck on spikes in the middle of Shipwreck’s Rest after they fucked with the wrong pirate.”

And with that, they attacked.

Isabela leapt forwards to lock blades with Cain, her two daggers striking against his sword with ferocity. As the crew of The Songbird clashed with the crew of The Unknown Tomorrow, Isabela felt herself driven back by Cain.

“Take out the mage!” Castillon cried as he engaged in a duel with Cenred, who was trying harder to keep his hat balanced on his head than actually trying to win. “The Grey Warden! The woman!”

Eleanor heard Castillon’s order for her death almost too late, and barely managed to dive out of the way from a killing blow as one of Cain’s crew fired his crossbow at her. The bolt, which would have pierced her heart, merely struck her shoulder. However, the shot sent her flying back and her head hit the ground with a thud. She may not be dead, Isabela realised, but their best asset was out of the fight.

“You couldn’t just accept your defeat!” Cain cried victoriously as he effortlessly backed Isabela away with his rapid strikes. “Nevermind. You will not have a place in my new empire, nor will you have one of your own. You are fool, Captain Isabela. One of the small. You lack vision!”

Isabela had no time for Cain’s taunts, all she could do was desperately try and block his lightning-fast strikes. He was holding back, she knew that. He wanted enough time to finish his show. And then, it would be the curtain call. For her, at least.

Cain feigned a lunge, a trick that left Isabela vulnerable. Cain didn’t waste the advantage and slashed at Isabela’s belly, a move that would have disembowelled her had an arrow not struck Cain’s sword hilt and knocked it from his hand. Percival Cain stood there for a moment, stunned, giving Isabela enough time to lash out and kick him hard in the face. Isabela knocked Cain to the ground, leaving him stunned, and turned to see her saviour. Plecker stood there, his empty bow pointing at where Cain’s hand had been. The elf gave Isabela a dutiful nod, notched another arrow into his bow and rejoined the battle.

Isabela saw the vulnerable Cain lying on the ground. The Architect’s Seal had fallen from his jacket and now lay next to him on the grass. Isabela stood over Tonbar’s killer, the man who’d destroyed The Wicked Grace and murdered her crew, and stabbed down, but before she could slay him she was violently leapt upon and shoved to the ground. She threw off her attacker and pulled herself up but the assailant punched her hard in the face and knocked her to the ground. From where she lay Isabela saw Castillon towering over her, sword held to her throat.

“Finally...” Castillon said. “The woman who ruined my life... at the end of my blade...” He laughed sadistically. “It’s time to die.”

Castillon raised his blade, savouring the moment as he prepared to stab down and pierce her heart, but this was a mistake that gave Isabela enough room to roll out of the way and spring to her feet. She slashed out at Castillon with her kukris and carved two deep slashes into his face, one of which bisected his left eye. Castillon howled, dropped his sword and fell to his knees as blood poured from his face.

“You just keep taking from me!” Castillon screamed, staring up at Isabela with his ruined face. “How much will be enough?”

Castillon snatched up his sword from the ground beside him and swiped it at Isabela, cutting her palm as she prepared to deliver a killing blow. Isabela hissed and dropped her dagger, but Castillon didn’t take the advantage and go for the kill. Instead, he grabbed The Architect’s Seal from the ground beside Cain and ran off further into the island.

“I won’t let you have it!” Castillon screamed. “I won’t!”

“Oh Maker...” Isabela said as she scooped up her dagger. In the corner of her eye she could see Percival Cain getting back up again and regaining his sword, but she didn’t have time to deal with him. She sheathed her blades and ran after Castillon as fast as she could, leaving the battlefield behind her.

***

Isabela ran across grasslands and rivers before charging her way through the jungle, in hot pursuit of Castillon, finally seeing him stop outside an old ruin in a small, tucked-away corner of the jungle. He stood in front of an old, runed stone door and shoved The Architect’s Seal into a hole in the middle. The runes on the door lit up and the door swung open.

“Castillon!” Isabela cried as she saw him. “What are you doing? What’s the point?”

“I won’t let you have it!” Castillon screamed deliriously as he dived into the lab. “Revenge shall be mine!”

“Andraste’s tits,” Isabela gasped as she followed the maniacal slaver. “He’s gone mad. He’s going to destroy the research.”

Isabela passed through the doorway and down several makeshift flights of stone steps, each one leading to a corner that reveal more steps. There was a slight trail of blood on the steps, blood that could only be from Castillon’s wound. There was no other way out. He was running into a dead end, and then Isabela could finally end this. She barely had any time to take in the gravity of the situation. She was here. She was finally here. The Architect’s Lab.

Finally, almost out of breath and running purely on adrenaline, Isabela reached the final flight of stairs.

“Castillon!” Isabela said, drawing her blades. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret!”

Isabela heard no words in response as she made her way down the stairs. And then she heard a scream.

“Castillon?” Isabela cried as she leapt to the bottom of the stairs, kukris at the ready. She charged into the room before her, the lab itself, and saw what had become of Castillon.

Castillon was scuttling around the floor, writhing and hissing. His hair had completely fallen out and his mottled, grey skin was covered in black patches and lined with jet-black veins. And his eyes were dead. They were completely dead, just soulless black pits. He had become a ghoul.

Isabela recoiled from the sight before her, stumbling back and looking away. That turned out to be a mistake. Because instead, her gaze met the twisted face of the monster that had done this to Castillon. The towering, robed, grey-skinned emissary that stood before her, pointing at her with a long and skeletal finger.

“Greetings,” the creature said in a light, sing-song voice. “My name is The Architect.”

***

Plecker fired an arrow from his bow and struck an enemy pirate between the eyes. Budwin struck down an attacker with his blades before they could strike Eleanor, allowing her to split one of Cain’s men’s head open with her greatsword. Percival Cain, faster than the eye could see, cut down three of The Songbird’s crew with a single strike. And Cenred poked a pirate really hard with his dagger.

Percival Cain looked at the battlefield. He was down to merely a few men. But it was enough to man his escape vessel.

“Men!” Percival Cain cried. “Retreat! Retreat!

And with that, amidst the whooping cheers of The Songbird’s crew, Percival Cain and his men ran off into the jungle.

“Come, men!” Plecker cried, thrusting his bow into the air. “After Captain Isabela! To the treasure!”

The crew cheered and ran with Plecker along the path Isabela and Castillon had taken.

“They... they’re my men!” Cenred cried as he chased after them.

***

“That... that’s impossible...” Isabela croaked as she back away from the monster, holding her daggers out in front of her. “You... you’re dead...”

“I was,” The Architect said simply, looking over his body. “And then I was not. It is that simple. This world holds many mysteries, mysteries that I have dedicated my life to solving. Hence this laboratory, my place of research and study.”

As she backed away, Isabela took in the details of the room. There were rolls and rolls of vellum piled everywhere, stacks of paper and parchment, jars of mysterious liquids and floating matter. It seemed all rather mundane. However, Isabela noticed, there was a small door just behind The Architect, a door which the ghoul Castillon was sniffing around. The Architect smiled as he saw her looking at it.

“Down there is my true laboratory,” The Architect said playfully. “This is merely where I keep my research papers. I do not think you would like to look down there, my dear. My experiments are considered by many to be... controversial.”

“How can you be alive?” Isabela said weakly. “Gadreel Mahariel, he... he killed you. You’re dead. The whole of Thedas knows you’re dead. What are you doing here?”

“After my survival with my encounter with the Warden-Commander, I returned here,” The Architect said, ignoring her. “I wished to continue my research. I did not think that anyone would stumble upon my spare key, let alone take it here. I can enter this place on a whim, but I kept a key around in case any possible trusted ally or loyal servant required entry. I did not expect common thieves to break in and attempt to sell my precious knowledge merely for coin.”

Isabela felt her back touch the wall. Slowly, carefully, The Architect was stepping towards her. He made her want to curl up and cry.

“What... what did you do to Castillon?” Isabela said boldly. “How?”

“So many questions,” The Architect chuckled. “You remind me of someone I once met... nevermind. I had it within my power to Ascend your friend, and so I did. The Ascension, which which you call the Taint, is a gift, my dear. You should not be afraid of it. Soon, you will understand...”

“No!” Isabela cried, looking at the hideous creature Castillon had become. “You can’t! You can’t make me like him!”

“I am sorry, my dear,” The Architect said, drifting ever closer. “But you know I am alive. I cannot allow you to leave and tell The Grey Wardens that I yet live...”

Isabela screamed as those skeletal fingers drew closer. She gripped her kukris tightly, bracing herself...

And then slashed upwards.

With a defiant cry, Isabela swung her daggers upwards and cut The Architect’s hands off. The Architect howled and stumbled back as his hands hit the floor, and Isabela raised her blades above her head and stabbed both of them deep into The Architect’s chest. The Architect let out one final moan of pain before slumping to his knees, the gush of black blood from his wounds slowing, and then he finally collapsed and died.

Isabela stood there for the longest time, staring at the monster’s corpse with her daggers still buried in it. She was breathing heavily, still taking it all in. But it was over.

And then Castillon started to scream.

The ghoul, the freakish, Tainted thing that had once been Castillon arched its back and screeched a horrendous, ear-splitting wail that made Isabela feel like her head was being compressed. Cracks began to appear in the lab’s walls and the earth around them started to shake as the lab began to crumble apart. Castillon stopped shrieking and stared at Isabela, his black and soulless eyes containing an intelligence and awareness that had not been there before, and then ran up the stairs. Still partly stunned, Isabela regained herself and ran off after him. She scrambled up the crumbling stairs as the lab collapsed around her, burying its secrets and fallen master as the walls came down and the ceiling caved in. Just before the lab could collapse upon her and crush her, Isabela dived out of the lab’s entrance and into the outside world. Before the rubble spat out a cloud of dust that obscured her vision, Isabela saw the wretched thing that had been Castillon running off into the wilderness.  And then, as the dust settled, Captain Isabela picked herself up, dusted herself off and went back to her crew.

***

Isabela’s first sign that something had gone wrong was the fact that the crew was on the beach but The Songbird was heading out to sea.

Percival Cain had outplayed them again. His ‘retreat’ had been the cover for a double-back, and while the crew of The Songbird had headed off to find Isabela, Cain and his men had snuck back and boarded their ship. Now, Percival Cain was sailing off into the sunset with the fastest ship on all the seas.

“You’ve all been wonderful!” Cain announced from The Songbird’s stern to the fuming pirates back on the island. He took off his hat and made a deep, dramatic bow. “You’ve been the most perfect audience! But, the curtain must fall eventually! Goodbye one and all, and I do hope you enjoyed the performance!” And, with that, Percival Cain placed his hat back on his head, flashed them one last dazzling smile, turned and disappeared as his new ship sailed off into the horizon.

“My ship...” Cenred said bleakly. He was curled up in a ball on the ground, his hat lying next to him, and he shaking like a leaf. “I was going to be a pirate captain... I was going to sail the seas... the fastest ship in the world...”

“Well,” Isabela said as she appeared behind them. “This has gone well.”

“Captain!” Plecker, Eleanor and Budwin all cried at the same time, running up to her to embrace her.

“Hold on, hold on!” Isabela laughed as her crewmen hugged her. “One at a time!”

“What happened?” Eleanor said, like an excited child. “What happened to Castillon? Where’s the treasure?”

Isabela’s smile faded, and her look told them all they needed to know.

“I... I don’t understand...” Budwin said. “The lab. Was it... was it not there? Did Castillon destroy it? Did he get away?”

“Something like that,” Isabela said sombrely. And so she sat down and told them all what had happened.

***

All eyes turned as the Grey Warden ship weighed anchor by the island, the crew of legendary warriors sending gasps and whispers through the pirates as they walked onto the beach.

After Isabela had told them all what had happened, the ship had been spotted on the horizon. Eleanor, she had admitted, had send a messenger bird to the Grey Wardens when they were at Shipwreck’s Rest, telling them that they were about to travel to The Architect’s Lab. The Wardens had sent a ship which had followed The Songbird and The Unknown Tomorrow to the island, where they were now disembarking.

“Well well,” the lead Warden, a familiar man with black hair, said with a faintly surprised tone. “What has gone on here?”

“Loghain?” Isabela said as she stood up to greet the Grey Warden. “Loghain Mac Tir? Maker, it’s been a while.”

“Ah,” Loghain said, the warmth in his voice overriding his natural sarcastic tone. “Isabela, wasn’t it? One of Hawke’s friends, from Kirkwall?” He stuck out his hand. “Stroud mentioned you, I knew I remembered the name. How is Hawke doing?”

“Maker knows,” Isabela admitted. “I haven’t seen her since we both left Kirkwall.”

“And so you’ve gone back to high seas piracy and treasure hunting, I see?” Loghain smirked. “I imagine Hawke would be proud, mores’ the pity. So, Eleanor informs me that you and your merry band,” he raised an eyebrow at the crew of The Songbird, who were still trying to stop Cenred from having a panic attack. “Have made a discovery or two?”

Isabela told Loghain the story of what had happened, leaving the Warden stunned to say the least.

“Maker...” Loghain said, shaking his head. “This... Weisshaupt will have to hear of this, as will Warden-Commander Maha... er... nevermind.” He shook his head again and left.

“Well,” Isabela said, sitting down on the beach, Plecker sitting next to her. “No treasure. No new discovery. Just a sunken ship, a dead crew and secretive Wardens hushing everything up. Maker, Plecker. I wish we’d never met Percival Cain.”

Isabela and Plecker sat there on the sand, watching the sea and listening to the waves. Isabela found herself looking at the Warden ship. It was a beautiful vessel, smaller than average, with the appearance of a merchant’s ship that had been refitted for combat. Its hull was painted a beautiful blue and silver, and its sails and flag bore the heraldry of the Grey Wardens. ‘The Cerberus’, it was called. Ships like her were why Isabela had fallen in love with the sea.

“Hey there, Captain.”

Isabela turn, smiling, to see Eleanor and Budwin. Judging by their matching sad smiles, they knew what they all knew. That their time with her was over.

“Captain Isabela,” Eleanor said, laughing weakly at how emotional she was becoming. “I... it has been an honour and a privilege to know someone such as you, Captain. You are not only a great woman, or a great Captain, or a great duellist, but you are a great friend and I will never, ever forget you.”

Isabela got up to receive the biggest hug she’d ever had from Eleanor. The Senior Warden squeezed the pirate captain as tightly as she could, not wanting to let go, before finally releasing her. Eleanor Hargreaves gave Captain Isabela one last smile before walking away.

“Captain,” Budwin said hesitantly, stepping forwards. He nervously cleared his throat. “I have been a Warden for many, many years and met many people often regarded as heroes. But I will remember no-one more fondly than you, Captain. You have given me the greatest adventure of my entire life, and I am eternally grateful.”

Budwin stuck out a hand for Isabela to shake, and she folded her arms and raised her eyebrow. Budwin sighed and hugged her, relaxing for the first time in so long when in her embrace. And then the two parted, and Budwin gave Captain Isabela a nod and a smile before he left.

“Oh, and one last thing,” Budwin said before going. “There’s someone here who wants to meet you.”

As Budwin and Eleanor left, Isabela and Plecker saw two dwarven Wardens walking up to them. One was a man with his helmet on, but the other was a chubby-faced young woman with striking facial tattoos and a wide smile.

“You’re her!” the female dwarf exclaimed. “Captain Isabela. It... it is an honour, ma’am! A privilege, truly! My name’s Sigrun, by the way,” the dwarf blushed. “Oh, but you’re not here to see me... look!”

Sigrun gave two thumbs up to her fellow, male Warden before dashing off to join the other Wardens. The male dwarf Warden slowly took his helmet off, revealing his face to Isabela and Plecker.

“Andraste...” Isabela said. “It’s good to see you again, Grideon.”

“A damn pleasure to see you both two!” Grideon cried, charging forward and attempting to wrap his arms around both Isabela and Plecker. “Looks like the treasure hunt went down the pan without me, huh?”

“I never heard of The Joining making a man more talkative before,” Plecker joked as they parted.

“Just brought me out of my shell, is all!” Grideon declared. “Looks like some good can come of being poisoned after all!”

“Maker, Grideon...” Isabela said. “I’m so sorry about what happened to you...”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Grideon said dismissively. “Was good for me! Gave me some real spine, but by The Stone does that Joining pack a punch!” Then, Grideon noticed that Isabela was about to say something. “What is it, Cap’n?”

“You...” Isabela stuttered. “You could come back. Join... my crew. Serve under me, at least. You could stay”.

Plecker put an arm around Isabela as Grideon shook his head.

“Sorry, Cap’n,” he said sadly. “I’m a Grey Warden now. Can’t change that. Still, every time I cave in a darkspawn skull, I’m doing it for you. Stay safe now, Cap’n. I hope this won’t be the last time.”

Grideon gave one final nod, and then put on his helmet and left.

“Well...” Isabela said finally. “That was the end of that.”

“So what now, ma’am?” Plecker asked. “Do we get passage home from the Wardens? Find ourselves some work, buy a new ship, start over?”

Isabela thought for a second, and then looked over the island. She looked at Cenred’s crew, men that had seen the true pathetic nature of their captain. She saw her shadow cast on the sand, the bicorn hat sat on her head. And she saw The Unknown Tomorrow, still anchored by the island.

“Listen up men!” Isabela declared as she marched forwards, across the beach and towards The Unknown Tomorrow. She waded out to sea, clambered aboard the ship and addressed the pirates down on the beach, giving a nod and a smile to Eleanor, Budwin and Grideon who stood with the other Wardens.

“Former crew of The Songbird!” Isabela declared. “I, Captain Isabela, declare myself captain of The Unknown Tomorrow, and I appoint this man as my Quartermaster!” She pointed at Plecker and the elf beamed proudly. “While you are few, I believe you would be enough to man this ship with a skeleton crew. We can set sail for Shipwreck’s Rest, recruit more men and become the terrors of the high seas! Who’s with me?”

The pirates on the beach whooped and cheered, raising their swords in the air. Cenred looked heartbroken, but he reluctantly removed his tricorn hat and placed it on Plecker’s head. The elf nodded respectfully.

“The ship could use a third-in-command,” Plecker said kindly to Cenred. “Someone to supervise the crew’s work while I act as a middleman between them and the captain. What do you say, Boatswain Cenred?”

Cenred looked like he’d just been given command of a whole fleet of ships, the way his face lit up.

“So climb aboard, men!” Captain Isabela declared triumphantly. “It’s time to set sail.”

***

The men were at their posts. The anchor had been brought up. The ship had been inspected from top to bottom. All was in order.

“How do things look, Quartermaster?” Captain Isabela said, doffing her bicorn hat to Quartermaster Plecker as he came up the stairs.

“Very good, Captain,” Quartermaster Plecker said, doffing his tricorn hat to Captain Isabela.

“Splendid,” Isabela smiled. “Boatswain Cenred?” She called down to the deck. “Is everything in order?”

“We seem to have enough crew and supplies for the journey to Shipwreck’s Rest!” Boatswain Cenred cried up to her. “And Percival Cain left a sum of gold in his cabin, enough for us to resupply! All is in order, Captain!”

“Very good, Boatswain!” Isabela said. “Very well, men! It’s time to set sail!”

The sails were unfurled, caught the wind almost immediately and set the ship off to sail. As she sailed off into the distance, Isabela took off her hat and gave one last smile and wave to Eleanor, Budwin and Grideon.

Captain Isabela, Captain of The Unknown Tomorrow, placed her hat firmly back on her head and set sail for the horizon.

***

The Architect strode through the jungle with Castillon’s feet, glancing around it with Castillon’s eyes, gripped Castillon’s sword with Castillon’s hands. He seemed to have gotten away with it.

He’d first discovered his miraculous ability after being slain by the Warden-Commander at Drake’s Fall. He’d thought himself defeated, thought his cause had failed, believe the future of the darkspawn and therefore the world to be in peril. And then he had opened his eyes. But they hadn’t been his eyes. They’d been the eyes of his friend, his companion, Utha. His loyal servant, murdered while trying to defend him. The Architect had been reborn in another Tainted body. And, it seemed, the same had happened once again.

Castillon was gone. Even if the man’s soul had not been completely changed by the Tainting, it was gone now. Erased, overridden. There was only The Architect. Maybe Castillon’s soul had gone to sit beside He which they called The Maker. Perhaps he had gone to a different afterlife, one long forgotten. Or perhaps The Architect’s intrusion had simply condemned the man to oblivion. It mattered little.

The Architect would not stay in this body for long. It was mottled, Tainted, visibly changed. He would not pass for human. So he would change. He would recover what he could from the ruin of the lab, the lab he had destroyed to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands, and then he would settle down in a place where he could resume his research. And then he would twist and morph this body like he had done to Utha’s. He would appear on the outside the way he was inside. The Architect would truly be reborn again.

The Architect sheathed his blade with Castillon’s hands and turned around, back to the lab. There was a lot of work to be done.


End file.
